


Snowfallen—(Jelsa)

by StrawberryChipmunk



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Jelsa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryChipmunk/pseuds/StrawberryChipmunk
Summary: An enjoyable snow-day with the Guardians is abruptly shattered when Jack is taken ill with a condition of mysterious origins. A mythic stranger arrives soon afterward, bearing grim tidings: Pitch Black has traveled back in Time—and Jack is the only one who can stop him.
Relationships: Elsa & Anna, Jack Frost & Elsa - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. All's Fair in Love and Snowball Fights

_My name is Jack Frost, and I’m a Guardian. It’s been a few months since we saved the world, and life is good._

A solidly packed snowball flew out of nowhere and smacked Jack on his head, sending him skidding face-first through the snow.

_Or not._

“Ha! Got you!” A booming Russian voice exclaimed.

As Jack pushed himself up from the ground, he replied, “Yeah, very funny, leveling a guy from behind.” Keeping his back turned to his assailant, Jack smirked as he continued, “But I know something even funnier. It’s called… _this!”_ Raising his staff, he spun around and shot off a quick blast of magic toward the hulking fur-covered figure.

The other Guardians, distracted from their snow play by the confrontation, gasped. The frost bolt had struck squarely where Jack had intended it to: North’s beard. The gleaming, white mass of hair was North’s pride and joy—or at least it was before it froze. Moving surprisingly quickly for a man of his girth, North trapped Jack in a bear hug and flipped him upside down, deftly pinning his arms.

“No, no, no! Wai—!” Jack’s protests were cut off by a mouthful of snow as North dunked him in a nearby snowbank. When his head emerged, he commented, “You know, it doesn’t look ba—” The rest of his opinion was lost as his head plunged once more into the white powder.

Finally, North released him, letting Jack fall in an ungainly heap on the ground. The winter spirit sat up and shook his head, ridding his silvery-white hair of excess snow.

“I guess I deserved that,” Jack ruefully admitted.

“Yes, you did!” North exclaimed, chuckling so hard his formidable belly shook.

Jack stood, brushing off his hoodie as he noted the other Guardians’ reactions. Tooth’s green and blue plumage shimmered, shaking as she clutched her sides in a fit of giggles; Sandy, on the other hand, merely graced him with a small, childlike smile from where he floated above the snow.

Jack’s blue eyes narrowed as he regarded the last of the Guardians: Bunnymund. The tall, muscular rabbit was making no effort to curb his amusement at Jack’s expense.

_Laugh at this, Peter Cottontail._

Jack quickly bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. “Hey Bunny, think fast!” he yelled as he sent the projectile hurtling toward his target.

Apparently Bunny was not feeling especially quick-witted—he didn’t even move before taking a face full of high-velocity snow. As Bunny casually wiped off his face with one paw, his eyes narrowed and locked on Jack.

“You know,” Bunny drawled, his Australian accent evident, “It’s not wise to mess with a rabbit, mate.”

Jack frowned. Based on previous experience, he had anticipated the rabbit’s reaction to be one indignant outrage.

_Bunny is taking this awfully calmly, I wonder wh—_

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by a crushing weight descending upon him from above. Tooth had made a snowball rivaling the size of North’s belly and lifted it high overhead before letting it drop directly on Jack’s head. Bunny had just been waiting for Jack to get his comeuppance. 

“Hey!” came the muffled exclamation from under the snow. Finally, Jack’s head popped out of the pile. “What was that for?” he asked, glowering at the obvious culprit.

“Well, I don’t know why, but your hair was _begging_ to be covered in a nice coat of snow. Who am I to deny its wishes?” Tooth replied, shrugging, a smirk blatant upon her face.

He raised an eyebrow. “‘Begging to be covered in a nice coat of snow’, was it?”

_It would only be polite to return the favor._

Bursting from his snowy prison, Jack launched a barrage of snowballs at the hovering fairy. High squeals echoed through the air, though a deep Russian curse told Jack he had missed his target at least once. Pandemonium erupted, with everyone but Sandy engaging in a free-for-all snowball fight. Still slightly irked with the Easter Guardian, Jack eventually focused his attention on taunting Bunnymund. He was so intent on casually avoiding Bunny’s shots that he failed to notice one of North’s snowballs hurtling toward him from the side. Unprepared for the impact, Jack yelped as he was knocked to the ground.

“Points for me!” North triumphantly shouted.

_Oh-ho, so this is a contest?_

A sly smile spreading across his face, Jack called out, “Bring it.”

He got up, his gaze still intent on Bunny.

“Rimsky Korsakov!” North exclaimed as a whole fleet of snowballs rose up around him, hovering motionless in the air. A moment later, a strangled bellow could be made out among the thumps of snow hitting its target.

As North dug himself free of the new drift, he hollered at Jack’s back, “That is cheating, Frost! No powers!”

“Way I see it,” Bunny commented, “is that ’e can ’ardly do anything without his powers, much less win a snowball fight.”

A slight frown flashed across Jack’s face at Bunny’s scathing assessment, but it was quickly replaced by a devious smirk. After ducking under a snowball thrown by Tooth, he drew a small circle in the snow with the end of his staff. Jack closed his eyes for a brief moment, reaching for his magic and concentrating on his new idea. Scooping up the snow within the circle, he formed it into six separate snowballs. The snowballs were swiftly launched in a tightly-packed volley toward the back of the rabbit’s head.

“Oi!” Bunnymund exclaimed, turning around. “Yer payin’ for that, you larrikin! Why I'm gonna—” His threat was cut short by half a dozen snowballs speeding out of the blue and leveling him from behind. Rather than exploding in a poof of powder, Jack had enchanted the snowballs so that they would rebound and zoom away, readying themselves for another strike.

“Crikey!” Bunny yelped as he rolled aside just in time to see the snowballs slamming into the snow where his head had been seconds before. “What in the bloody Centralia did you do?!” He shouted at Jack, trying to regain his feet while avoiding the whizzing white orbs. Jack was too busy guffawing to answer.

“Jack!” Tooth scolded, Bunny’s shouts having drawn attention to his plight, “Leave Bunny alone.”

Standing up once more, Bunnymund declared, “No chunks of ice are gonna get the best of me!” He pulled his boomerangs from their sheaths and, in a remarkable display of coordination, proceeded to slice the snowballs with sharp precision as they approached. 

Jack stopped laughing long enough to grin in anticipation; Bunny’s competitive nature was showing up, right on cue.

“You want to win? Well, you’re gonna have to work for it, Cottontail!” he called out.

“Blimey! How many of these things are there?!” Bunny hollered after a moment; he was now fending off dozens of undeterred spheres. 

Jack rolled in the snow, clutching his sides as he laughed. Perhaps slightly maliciously, but all in good fun, he had imbued the snowballs with the ability to multiply when cut apart.

Breathing heavily, Bunnymund struggled to fend off the icy barrage of death. When all of the snowballs suddenly drew back, Bunny quickly took advantage of the respite to try and catch his breath; he bent forward and rested his hands on his thighs, still clutching the boomerangs. His break was interrupted, however, by an odd droning buzz. Bunny’s gaze shot up, his face morphing into an expression of panic as he saw the plethora of snowballs rapidly hurtling toward him.

Bunnymund yelled as he turned tail and ran. The snowballs chased him around the area, bouncing off the back of his head. North roared with laughter at the spectacle, while Tooth—fighting to hide her amusement—busied herself scolding Jack.

Completely brushing off the fairy’s reprimand, Jack called, “Hey, Sandy! What’s the score?”

A panicked look swiftly overtook the golden man’s face as he frantically tried to keep up with Jack’s rapid strikes against Bunny. Chuckling at both of their expressions, Jack finally let the enchanted snowballs fall to the ground in a heap. Sandy communicated via sand pictures over his head that Jack had won by a snowslide. Then came Tooth, who had earned several points for the giant snowball at the beginning. She was followed closely by North, and Bunny’s score was far below the rest, thanks to Jack’s mischief claiming his attention.

“You’ll pay for this one, mate!” Bunnymund said, his eyes intent on Jack.

“Bunny!” Tooth rebuked, interposing herself between the rabbit and his target.

North stepped forward. “Tooth’s right. It’s getting late, and snowball fight is over. Now shake, and make it good one, or I lock you in storage room with elves.”

Sighing, Bunny slid around Tooth and held out his paw. Jack reflexively began reaching for it, then paused, looking up into the rabbit’s sage-green eyes—

Eyes that glinted coldly, void of emotion. 

_Oh crap…_

_To be fair, he did ask for it… but that might’ve been a bit much. Let’s hope he’s feeling forgiving._

Contrary to appearances, Jack treasured his friendship with Bunny. As he took the offered paw and shook it, Jack began an apology: “I didn’t mean for—”

Bunny cut him off, “It’s fine.” His eyes softened as he added, “You may’ve had reason to pop me a corker to the cakehole.”

Jack knew that this was Bunny’s way of apologizing for his rude remarks, and was relieved that the rabbit wouldn’t hold a grudge.

“ _A_ corker, mind,” Bunny said, his gaze teasingly narrowing. “You owe me. Big time.”

“There!” North exclaimed, making everyone jump. “Now we can eat.” Winking at Jack, he added, “Bad feelings during dinner give indigestion.”

“You know we’re immortal, right? We don’t need to eat,” Tooth said.

“Ah! But we are family, no?” countered North. “And family eats together!” He seized Sandy’s and Bunny’s arms and began striding toward the nearest secret workshop entrance, leaving Tooth and Jack to follow at their own pace. Jack wasn’t exactly interested in how the brushing habits of children changed as they grew older, but he listened all the same as Tooth chattered on—or rather, _tried_ to listen. As they walked, Jack found his attention wandering to a nagging feeling at the back of his head. It wasn’t exactly painful, but a curious sensation of lightheadedness slowly crept over him.

_Maybe North’s snowball hit me harder than I thought. Nothing a cookie and some hot chocolate won’t fix._

Jack realized Tooth was still talking to him. He paid attention long enough to decipher something about toothpaste and fruitcake, but he caught his mind drifting again a minute later. 

_Why can’t I focus?_

Almost as if the thought was a trigger, Jack’s surroundings seemed to blur and blend into one another. Completely disoriented, he tripped, almost falling to the ground.

“Are you alright?” asked Tooth, concern creeping into her voice as she considered Jack’s uncharacteristic stumble. The other Guardians, far ahead by now, hadn’t noticed anything.

“I’m fine,” Jack replied as he unsteadily regained his footing. “I was just dizzy for a few seconds. I mean, North did bean me in the head a few times.” Jack briefly shook his head, relieved when his vision cleared and everything came into focus.

“Are you sure?” Tooth asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, it’s good.” Jack’s assertion was swiftly ruined as his legs buckled and he found himself on his hands and knees, engulfed in a sickening nausea.

“Jack!” Tooth fluttered around him in anxious agitation. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I have a concussion,” Jack moaned, using his staff to hoist himself to a standing position.

“We don’t get concussions,” Tooth said, placing a hand to his forehead in concern.

Jack took a wobbly step forward, his head swimming. “It sure feels like one…”

“I’ll go get North; don’t go anywhere.” Her words came through a dense fog, muffled and out of sync with her mouth. 

_As if I_ **_could_ ** _go anywhere like this..._

Black spots and tiny pinpricks of light danced at the edges of his vision; slowly they crept inwards, forming a thick haze as Jack lost feeling in his limbs. The last thing Jack noticed was the sensation of falling forward—into the darkness.

***

_This feels… weird._

Realizing his eyes were closed, Jack opened them to find his view obstructed by a thick, charcoal smog. He tried to move forward, only to feel a bolt of panic as he realized his limbs were not responding. “Hello?” Jack shouted; the words formed, but no sound followed.

_What happened?! What’s going on? Where am I?_

The fog remained unresponsive, leaving Jack no choice but to remain suspended in the oppressive silence. Time seemed to have no meaning here; Jack had no idea if he had spent mere minutes or several lifetimes following the slight eddies with his eyes as they traveled across this strange space. 

At some point, Jack realized that the haze had gradually shifted color, lightening to an almost silver tone in place of the hopeless darkness that had surrounded him. On a whim, he attempted to make his toes twitch, more out of boredom than anything else; his gaze shot to his feet when he felt movement in response.

_I’m free!… Now what?_

Still stuck floating in space, Jack looked around him, hoping to find something to help him out of his predicament. Suddenly, the moon appeared, looking as Jack had seen it only once before: so big and bright that it seemed like nothing else existed. It had chased the dark fog away, filling the air with curtains of shimmering mist. Any lingering fear vanished, replaced by a sense of security and peace. A smile spread across Jack’s face as he regarded the glowing orb before him.

_Hello, old friend._

The already-luminescent moon shone even brighter in response. Jack had the impression that the Man in the Moon was trying to show him something, but couldn’t figure out what. Squinting into the light, Jack failed to discern anything besides the pale heavenly sphere.

_“Do not look._ **_See_ ** _.”_

_Because that totally makes sense… Okay, lemme give this a shot._

Jack closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath before letting his gaze focus on the moon. Rather than trying to observe what the Man in the Moon wanted to show him, Jack let his eyes absorb everything in his field of vision. Slowly an image emerged, growing more detailed with every second. The picture seemed to envelop Jack, until it was so life-like that he had trouble believing he wasn’t actually there; Jack could clearly feel the Man in the Moon’s amusement at this.

_“Who says you are not here? Just because it is in your mind, does not mean it is not real.”_

Jack shook his head, trying to focus on the image before him; it reminded him of clocks he had seen in wealthy homes soon after he was made an immortal. The face itself was elaborate and, as he watched, it divided itself into several clocks of various sizes. Each new face was unique, hands spinning at different speeds, and yet somehow the image of the great clock lingered within their movements. Watching a moment more, Jack realized that, even more integral to the scene before him, an inexplicable pattern was woven into the gracefully regimented dance of time unfolding before him.

_“Very good. You have begun to See. They work together in harmony, creating something miraculous, yet infinitely larger than themselves.”_

Yet as Jack watched, a miniscule disturbance occurred. It was impossible to tell what it was, or where it started, but individual pieces of the design began to break apart. Within seconds, the great clock had shattered; an empty darkness had overtaken everything.

_“Each part is important, no matter how minute; disturb one, and everything will fall.”_

_Why do I need to to know this?_

Jack felt the Man in the Moon’s mood darken.

_“Besides darkness, what do you perceive?”_

After closing his eyes, for they were of no use in the gloom surrounding him, Jack reached out with his other senses. There was nothing.

_“Do not listen._ **_Hear_ ** _.”_

Jack remembered how the image had surfaced only when he had stopped trying to find it and started absorbing his surroundings.

_Maybe that’s what I need to do here._

Jack ceased searching for whatever the Man in the Moon wanted him to hear. He let himself become immersed in the vacant abyss surrounding him, and a sinister chuckle emerged. Jack felt his fists and jaw clench.

_Pitch Black._

_“Yes…”_

The evil laugh was abruptly cut off, leaving Jack alone in the vast and terrifying emptiness.

_What happened?_

_“Nothing.”_

_What do you mean, ‘nothing’?_ **_Something_ ** _happened to stop Pitch like that._

_“You misunderstand; Nothing happened. What the Dark One does not realize is that in disturbing the balance, not only does he destroy the Guardians; he destroys everything, including himself. Everything there is now, even everything that was, will cease to exist. Look around yourself. There is Nothing. There will have been Nothing. And there will forever be Nothing. This is what will come to be if you fail.”_

As Jack was whisked back to the curtains of silver mist, the responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. Self-doubt immediately began besieging him, but, amidst the chaos and turmoil of his thoughts, two words rang out over and over:

_Why me?_

_“Among the entire world, only a handful are aware of the problem, and only five can actively fight it.”_

_But what about the other Guardians? They have_ **_way_ ** _more experience than I do. Last time, I messed up so badly that Pitch almost won!_

_“Remember the clocks? One disturbance was all it took. Now imagine if in fighting to stop it, we create another. Everything would be over in moments. You are the only one whom I can send.”_

Jack’s brow furrowed at the Man in the Moon’s response, and he desperately wanted to know more. But before he could protest or ask more questions, the Moon offered:

_“There is another reason. You hold something inside that no one else does.”_

_My center of fun?_

_“While no one else possesses that, I was referring to something different. But that, as well as your abilities, does play a part in it. Within yourself you have a power that can heal much of the wrong Pitch has done. It will not be able to undo what has already occurred, but it does not need to. Sometimes the best things come to pass because of the great trials that went before them.”_

_What power are you talking about?_

_“You must discover it on your own. I cannot assist you with this. You are the only one able to find what is, and recognize what could be. When the time comes, do not think; feel what you need to do.”_

Jack scowled, mildly irritated at the ‘useful’ response.

_When what time comes?! I need more answers!_

_“You will know, Jack. This is the most I can do to help. Who are you, Jack? What are you capable of?”_

An unexpected tugging sensation threw Jack off balance, sending him lurching to the side as it grew stronger.

_What do you mean?! What’s happening?!_

The Man in the Moon’s voice grew fainter as Jack was pulled further and further from the place of mists.

_“You will need to remember who you are_ — _remember who you can be.”_

Flailing wildly, Jack struggled against the force dragging him away. “Stop it! This is important!” Pleas unheeded, Jack watched helplessly as the mists receded from his view. 

_Wait!_

_“Remember…”_

The last thing Jack saw was a young woman surrounded by darkness.


	2. The Mysterious Visitor

The first thing Jack noticed was an agonizingly consistent, throbbing pain attempting to drill its way through his skull. Amidst the brutal cacophony, he could vaguely make out voices nearby that seemed familiar. A strange fuzziness tickled his face, and it took a moment for him to realize he was laying on a bed, covered in furs. Despite the pain, Jack smiled when he realized that on his head was, of all things, an ice pack.

_ The other Guardians must have carried me back to the workshop when I blacked out. _

Jack struggled to lift his heavy eyelids. Finally, he succeeded, and was rewarded with his headache doubling in intensity. He groaned, immediately clenching his eyes shut in hopes that the pain would lessen. It didn’t.

“Jack?” Tooth’s anxious and worried voice distracted Jack from his misery. “Jack? Are you awake?”

“No,” he moaned as he reached up and brushed the pointless ice pack off his forehead.

“He’s awake! Get in here! Come on, he’s finally awake!”

Jack winced as Tooth’s exclamations intensified the waves of pulsing agony of his head.

_ Does she really need to make this much of a fuss? It’s not like I’ve risen from the dead. _

Jack kept his thoughts to himself and said, “Yeah, I’m awake, and I have a wicked headache.”

“Oops, sorry,” Tooth said, lowering her voice.

Jack tentatively opened his eyes again, and was relieved when no additional pain ensued. The bed, a night table, and a spindly wooden chair were the only furnishings in the small, wooden room. A window on the far wall revealed that night had fallen while he was unconscious. Jack’s perusal of the room halted when he saw North and Bunnymund hurrying through the doorway, joining Tooth at his bedside.

“By Svarog’s beard! He lives!” North bellowed as he picked Jack up, crushing him in an enormous bear hug.

“North!” Tooth scolded, “He’s still not better yet.”

“Oh!” North set Jack back down on the edge of the bed.

Jack looked down and patted his torso, surprised his ribs were still intact.

_ Note to self: never get a hug from North when you’re not in perfect health _ — _ it may kill you. _

“We thought you’d never wake up. It’s been a for’night since you passed out like a pansy,” Bunny commented.

Jack opened his mouth to deliver a sharp retort, pausing when he noticed the relief in Bunnymund’s eyes. Then the meaning of the rabbit’s words sank in.

_ I was out for a whole two  _ **_weeks_ ** _?! Geez, now he’ll never let me hear the end of it. _

“How you feeling, Jack?” asked North.

“Terrible. Worse than before I blacked out,” Jack said as he rubbed his forehead, hoping to alleviate the ache. Looking up, he realized the other Guardians’ cheery moods had evaporated. Jack felt his eyes narrow as he studied them; concern and anxiety were evident, but none of them would meet his gaze.

_ What’s going on? Did I accidentally cause a blizzard in Hawaii? _

Jack targeted Bunny to provide answers. “What aren’t you guys telling me?” 

The oversized rabbit shifted from paw to paw, reluctant to begin. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally lifted his gaze from the floor. Jack was astonished when he realized that—though Bunny tried to hide it—there was fear mixed with the worry in the rabbit’s eyes. 

His ears twitched as Bunny finally attempted to answer Jack’s question. “Well, mate… Ya see…”

Tooth took over the explanation when Bunny failed to continue. “After you collapsed, I went and grabbed the others. I was only gone a minute, but when I got back…” Her voice broke with emotion, and Jack caught a glimpse of tears before Tooth buried her face in her hands. 

“You were Fading, Jack,” North finished quietly.

“Fading? What’s that?”

Bunnymund answered. “Fading…” he took a deep breath, “Fading is exactly what it sounds like, mate. You disappear, slowly, until there’s nothin’ left. I saw it ’appen once to a bloke, ages ago…” Bunny’s voice trailed off, his eyes acquiring a distant look. Shaking his head as if to dispel the memories that had engulfed him, Bunnymund shuddered and added, “Never thought I’d see it again.”

“What made me Fade?” Jack asked, now intensely curious in spite of his headache.

_ And if I was Fading, then why am I still here? _

“It’s difficult to know exactly  _ what _ made you Fade, much less why your Fade stopped. That has never happened before,” North answered, “But as for the  _ why _ you Fade, it is not my secret to tell.”

“So much for having your trust. Now you guys are keeping secrets from me?” Jack couldn’t stop the frustrated words from escaping, even if he had wanted to. The ache in his head paled in comparison to the hurt from knowing he wasn’t really a Guardian—at least, not to them.

The tension in the room grew ugly, smothering conversation until Tooth offered an olive branch: “Fading has not happened in a very, very, very long time. Many hoped that with the cause resolved it would never happen again. Of all the people alive today, only a handful are old enough to have seen it before.” 

Tooth suddenly gasped. “Sandy doesn’t know you’re alright! He went outside to create dreams a couple of hours ago. I’ll go get him!” She immediately zoomed out the doorway into the hall.

Ignoring Tooth’s departure, the other Guardians continued to avoid Jack’s gaze. Finally, North approached, laying a hand on Jack’s shoulder. He almost shrugged it off, but decided to wait until after North had his say.

“Jack, we have made promises. They make it… difficult to know how much to say. Yes, we keep secrets, but not because we don’t trust you.”

Bunny, the only other Guardian in the room, nodded in affirmation.

“I wish I could explain better,” North said, stroking his beard with his free hand. “But some things we keep hidden because they must be protected. The more people who know, the more—how you say… vulnerable they become.”

Jack nodded, understanding the reason, but it didn’t diminish the hurt. “I just wish somebody would have told me you were keeping secrets from me.”

“Jack, you have been around for long time—but we have been around much longer. There are plenty of things you don’t know about the world we live in. You still have much to learn. And there are some things that you don’t need to know,” North explained, “But if you need to know, we tell you—just like we did today.”

“Alright,” Jack said, realizing North spoke the truth. “Thanks for telling me, I guess.”

“You are welcome,” North replied, clapping his hand on Jack’s shoulder. The impact sent a pulse of pain shooting through his throbbing skull. “Now we wait for Tooth and Sandy,” North said before going to stand by Bunnymund.

Realizing that they would make no move to continue the conversation, Jack thought back on what had been said. Now that the issue with the other Guardians had been resolved, he pondered the matter that had started it in the first place: Fading. 

_ Why did I stop Fading? Bunny and North made it sound like it was a terminal illness, something that was deadly and irreversible. _

Jack realized that the Man in the Moon had likely intervened, just as he had done when Jack had died three-hundred years earlier. His brow creased as he mulled over what the Man in the Moon had divulged during his unsettling vision-dream. 

_ A hidden power? Like what? And what is Pitch planning? When isn’t Pitch planning something? And what did the Man in the Moon mean by ‘what is’? _

He frowned, wracking his mind for the answers, but none were forthcoming.

_ Why was it so important to tell me stuff that I don’t even understand? He basically gave me a jet engine, a Chinese instruction manual, and a good-luck slap on the back before ditching me in the middle of Antarctica. _

Jack’s scowl deepened as he recalled the final moments of his vision.

_ Remember who I am? What the heck is that supposed to mean? Isn’t that what I just did with the teeth a few months ago? How much can a guy forget?! _

Jack finally gave up attempting to decipher the Man in the Moon’s useless instructions as the ache in his head increased. Yet something nagged at the corner of his mind; he felt as if he had forgotten something. It wasn’t the Moon’s advice; he obviously remembered  _ that _ , for better or for worse. Frowning, Jack abused what few brain cells were still functioning to pick through his memory. In a brief moment of clarity, Jack realized what he had overlooked.

_ Who was that girl? _

Jack tried to recall the young woman’s face, but all he could produce was a vague blur framed by light hair. Though he’d never seen her before, he had a strong desire to help this mysterious stranger. He’d only seen her for a few moments, but something in her expression haunted him—it echoed the same hopelessness that Jack had seen in his reflection for three-hundred years. In the brief glimpse he’d had, the aura of anguish and sorrow around her had been almost palpable.

_ Why would she feel such overwhelming grief? What could have happened in her life to cause that? And why on Earth am I beginning to obsess about a nameless girl? I’m turning into a creepy old man! _

Jack’s train of thought was interrupted by Phil the yeti bursting through the doorway. He winced as the door slammed against the wall, the loud bang intensifying his headache. Phil glared at Jack for a moment—there was a long-standing history of dislike—before jabbering a lengthy discourse in Yettish that was indecipherable to Jack.

“Nice of you to speak in a language we can all understand,” he said, not bothering to disguise his sarcasm.

_ Maybe freezing his tongue would help… Do yetis even have tongues? _

“Yes, you were right to interrupt,” North replied, ignoring Jack’s comment. “Bunny, bring him in.”

As Bunnymund was leaving, Jack asked, “Bring who in?”

“We have guest,” was North’s reply. Then he said to himself, “Must be worse than we feared. Thought I’d never see him again.”

North’s cryptic remarks only multiplied Jack’s questions, but he held his tongue. North was obviously troubled, and Jack knew that talking to him wouldn’t bring any answers. Deciding to let the matter drop, he cringed as his headache seconded his decision.

“’Ere they are,” Bunnymund announced as he appeared in the doorway, motioning for someone else to proceed him. Jack leaned forward, curious as to whom Bunny would show such respect. Expecting a figure radiating power and command, Jack was taken aback when a small, wizened old man in a purple robe ambled into the room. There was an unmistakable light of good humor shining in his golden brown eyes.

“You still need good beard cut,” North harrumphed as he regarded the newcomer. While his statement wasn’t precisely true, North’s gleaming well-groomed beard was a stark contrast to the bushy, ash-gray mess sported by the new arrival.

“And I see  _ you _ still haven’t lost weight,” the small man dryly replied. Jack chuckled at the swift retort aimed at North’s intimidating figure.

“Ahaha!” Jack’s head throbbed at North’s booming laugh. “Good to see you, old friend!” North said as he strode across the room and pulled the stranger into a fierce hug. Jack winced in sympathy for the large Russian’s victim. 

_ If North kills the old man, and I end up responsible for the tombstone, the only thing it will say is: He lived, he hugged, he died. _

“Careful who you’re calling old! Now put me down before you break my spine, you big oaf!” came the muffled response.

After setting the wiry man down on the floor, for North had picked him up during the embrace, North inquired, “How is Mother Nature?”

_ Mother Nature? She’s real? None of the other Guardians have ever mentioned her. Is she one of those secrets that needs to be protected? ...Or are they just worried I’m gonna piss her off? _

“Right now she’s a bit temperamental. You know how it strains her to be torn between summer and winter. I will be happy when the transition to spring and fall comes. It makes life easier for both of us.” The smile on the man’s face faded a bit. “She was rather distressed with me coming here, interfering and whatnot.” A frown began creasing his brow. “I  _ do _ hope that she’s not too upset.” 

“Well, why you are here?” North questioned.

Bunnymund jumped into the discussion, “Yeah, why’d ya come out of the Castle? I thought that—” As he was talking, Bunny’s eyes slid toward Jack, “After… well, you know.”

_ That is  _ **_not_ ** _ what Bunny was going to say. What’s that obnoxious furball trying to hide from me?  _

Bunnymund’s glance seemed to have drawn the nameless man’s attention toward Jack, for he promptly faced the bed where the winter spirit sat. “Oh! Forgive me,” he said, bowing. “In my haste to greet old friends after a sadly-necessary separation, I have neglected my manners.” As he strolled forward, he extended his leathery hand. “How do you do? I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Jack Frost.” 

Jack took the proffered hand and was surprised by the vigor of the obviously aged man’s grip. When Jack opened his mouth to respond to the polite question, and ask how the stranger knew his name, the man chuckled and held up his free hand, forestalling Jack’s answer.

“Ah, again I have been thoughtless. For if you were doing well, there would be no need for me to be here. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Father Time,” he said, retracting his hand and bowing once more.

Jack was awestruck. The kindly old man bending down before him was a myth, even in the immortal world. Jack proceeded to inwardly scold himself.

_ I should have guessed who he was after I heard North ask about Mother Nature.  _

As he straightened himself, Father Time’s eyes twinkled. “For a man of your unrivaled—and rabble-rousing—reputation, you seem rather quiet.”

“That kinda tends to happen when you have a headache that could kill a yeti,” Jack responded, causing Father Time to laugh. Then Jack paused.  _ Rabble-rousing? It’s not like I intentionally try to cause trouble! …Most of the time. _

Jack’s consternation must have shown on his face, prompting Father Time to explain, “Mother Nature prefers milder winters than the children, taking pleasure in the life to be found during the other seasons. Winter is… a hard time for her.”

Jack frowned, the pounding in his head being joined by a sinking feeling.  _ Wait. So by doing my job, I’m making her life miserable? _

It disturbed Jack more than he cared to admit that his snow days, intended to bring fun and joy, instead caused discomfort to this cheerful man and his obviously deeply-loved wife.

Jack was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the rest of the explanation. Father Time, smiling, continued, “But it is all well in the end. Winter and summer are times of extremes. While winter may cause her to be more despondent and detached, summer is there too. It brings out a sweet and loving side that I would not trade for anything in the world.” Father Time’s deep love and adoration for his wife was evident as it flowed through his words and completely filled his eyes. “Our love is more important to me, and her, than anything else in the vast universe. The bad moments make me appreciate the good times so much more, and prevent me from taking them for granted. Winter, summer. Light, dark. Hot, cold. It all balances out.”

Father Time’s words invoked a strange wistfulness from deep within Jack. Until recently, Jack had had no friends or companions to spend time with. Invisible to all the unbelieving humans, disliked for his mischief by the immortals, he had spent most of his time alone and unwanted. But, despite this, he had enjoyed his life and the fun he brought to the children.

Then, everything had changed. Jack had found friends—and eventually family—in the Guardians. Every time a child saw him, astonishment evident in their gaze, Jack felt a glowing pride in his chest. Pride that they believed in him, but most of all, pride that he was doing what he could to protect them and bring joy and fun into their lives. But despite his new occupation and the loving camaraderie he shared with the Guardians, Jack realized that his life was void of the selfless and fulfilling love that Father Time was blessed enough to have.

Jack shook his head to dispel his thoughts, making his headache intensify briefly. Realizing that Father Time had been silent while he was lost in thought, Jack looked up. Father Time was smiling understandably at his lapse in manners.

“I have discovered that it is best to allow the mind peace and solitude to sort out events. Regrettably, much has happened. I fear that it will only get worse.”

Father Time held up his hand. “Before you unleash the torrent of questions that I know are undoubtedly on your mind—” Jack closed his mouth, for he had been about to do just that, “—there is a matter that needs to be taken care of.”

Father Time’s shrewd gaze shifted to the other remaining Guardians. An amused smile spread across his features, causing Jack to look too. North was attempting to quietly divest a reluctant elf of a platter of cookies, while Bunny stood idly by and rolled his eyes.

“North,” Father time began, drawing the attention of the duo, “much of what I am about to discuss you and Aster already know, but nevertheless, due to the confidential nature of these subjects, I must ask you to leave the room. Some things are for Jack’s ears alone.” 

The group went through the door without a sound, except for the tinkling of the elf’s bell as he futilely hung from the tray in North’s hands. Jack was glad when the elf was taken out of earshot, for the ringing had echoed in his pounding head. Father Time went to close the door, but before he did so, he quickly glanced up and down the hallway to ensure that nobody was lingering nearby. Apparently satisfied, he pulled the chair close to the bedside, sat down, and turned his attention to the only individual left in the room.

Jack realized that he must not have been as adept at hiding his confusion as he thought, because Father Time explained, “The information I am about to impart is highly confidential, and can do great damage if heard by the wrong people.” Apparently the perplexed expression on his face lingered, because Father Time suddenly chuckled. “Oh!  _ That’s _ what has you bewildered.” He lowered his voice, adding a mock-serious expression to his face. “Aster is Bunnymund’s given name. Well actually, his full name is E. Aster Bunnymund.”

“What does the E. stand for?” Jack asked, curious and trying to unearth some teasing ammunition on Bunnymund.

_ Exasperating, egotistical, enormous, elderly, eggheaded. Yeah, “E” describes Bunny. _

“ _ That _ is one thing I will not reveal,” Father Time replied. “It would undoubtedly end with me six feet under and pushing up daisies.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw that the mock-serious expression had disappeared, replaced by the genuine emotion.

_ Why is Bunny so touchy about it? He wasn’t  _ **_that_ ** _ bad about his pre-Guardian state. _

Obviously trying to mollify Jack’s rampant curiosity and restore a light-hearted mood, Father Time added, “However, I can tell you the full names of the other Guardians without any harmful repercussions on my health. Sandy’s full name is Sanderson Mansnoozie.”

Jack fought back a fit of snickers while Father Time leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “The actual name of Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Old Man Who Leaves Presents in Shoes, Mr. Chimney Magic, and whatever else he is called in various parts of the world, is Nicholas St. North. And last comes the Tooth Fairy, whose full name is Toothiana Lark Fairyflight.”

At the ending of the list, Jack gave full vent to his mirth, Father Time joining in with hearty laughter. When the chuckling died down, Father Time leaned back in his chair with a contented smile. 

“I am of the opinion that a good bout of laughter cleanses the soul, lightens the heart, and brightens our outlook on life. Do you not think so?” Father Time asked, looking at Jack.

“I never thought about it that way, but yeah. It’s what I love about being the Guardian of Fun; I get to make kids laugh,” Jack replied, pausing as his head throbbed from the added stimulus of laughter.

Father Time sobered at Jack’s expression of mild pain, his eyes no longer twinkling. “Let us get to the reason of my visit. As you are now probably aware, my very existence is a closely guarded secret. It is the same with Mother Nature, though partly because she is my spouse. It was not always so. But in order to understand why it was necessary, you must learn more about the origin of Time.”


	3. The Gateway

Jack leaned forward, curious as to what story Father Time would impart.

Father Time cleared his throat before continuing. “Time was not always present. Until my birth, no one’s mind was broad enough to think that there could be an idea of Change. Everything just existed, heedless as to what could or couldn’t be. I was born with the ability to think that things could be different than what they were. My idea and mindset began unbalancing the world, for nothing like it had ever existed before. No one had ever thought it  _ could _ . Things were torn between between Being and  _ Changing. _ Needless to say, turmoil ensued.”

**_Why_ ** _ is it important for me to know this? I feel like I’m reading a history textbook…  _

“After a long bit of history that I shan’t relate at the current moment, it was decided that Changing would become the new way of life. The ensuing chaos prompted the conclusion that Changing would need to be regulated. It is then that I created the idea of Time. That is why I am called Father Time. I was appointed as the custodian of my creation, and all was well for a while.”

_ ‘For a while’? Why do I get the feeling something terrible is about to happen? _

“One person in particular dreamed that things could be made better, but others took the idea much too far.” Father Time’s face darkened as he continued his tale. “It was then that the idea of Change took a wrong turn. They manipulated Time so they went back to before whatever event they wanted to change occurred. Once they changed it and returned to the present, they vanished. They had altered their own Histories, so the person they are never Existed. Instead there is a new them, affected by what they had changed. Not only them, but everyone and everything else, as well; many great and terrible catastrophes were caused by their actions.”

_ So by changing the past, they removed the future self that had changed the past in the first place? This is making my brain hurt.  _

“After a time, I decided that it would be best for all if there was no interference with Time. Many did not like my choice, and sought to capture me and Mother Nature. They hoped to force me to let them change History.” A note of sorrow and wistfulness crept into Father Time’s voice. “As a result, we retreated from the world and, in order to prevent future calamities, we shall never fully partake of it again.” 

_ That’s awful! Even when I was invisible to humans, I was free to do anything and go wherever I wanted. _

“Am I correct in guessing that you are wondering why I told you this?” Father Time questioned.

Jack nodded. _Huh._ _Maybe the old guy isn’t as crazy as he looks._

After a moment, Father Time said, “I am imparting this information to you because it deals directly with why you are feeling so terrible. You see, when immortal’s Histories are changed before they become immortal, sometimes it changes it so that they never  _ were _ immortal. That means that they ceased Existing long ago. Or History was altered before their time so they never Existed in the first place. 

“And yet being an immortal grants you immunity from Time’s passing. As an effect of this, the immortal in the present cannot simply cease to Exist, or even never Exist, depending on the circumstances. Instead, the strain on the individual atoms is too much, and they gradually shatter until none are left.”

“Are you saying that…?” Jack paused, not wanting to complete the thought.

“Yes, that is Fading, and what has occurred to your History,” Father Time said, confirming Jack’s suspicions. 

“Then why am I even still here? Why am I still pretty solid, for that matter?” Jack asked.

_ And why do I have an agonizing headache if I’m not Fading anymore? _

“While you are an immortal, you are more than that.” Father Time’s voice and eyes began filling with an intense energy. “You are a Guardian! You swore an oath to the Man in the Moon, one of the first beings, to protect all the things that bring joy to children: dreams, wonder, hope, childhood memories, and fun! This oath was given to one of the most powerful entities that came  _ before _ Time. Your oath to him will Exist as long as he does! Furthermore, your oath could not have been made without you. Therefore, it is impossible for you to never Exist, because your oath to the Man in the Moon will ever Exist, just as he does.  _ That _ is why you are in misery. Your very being is being torn between Existing and not Existing, but this time there can be no release. It is why your Fade reversed.”

_ Great. Just wonderful. I’ve been sentenced to an eternal life of agony. _

“Is there any way to fix this… ‘being torn between existing and not existing’ thing?” Jack asked.

“In this particular case, it is imperative we somehow do so.” Father Time’s face flushed slightly as he added, ”You see, somehow Pitch Black recently learned to tap into my power, reinstating the destructive chain of time travel.”

Sitting back in his chair, he continued, “Unfortunately, because it is by my power that Pitch Black traveled back in Time, by attempting to fix it myself I can only make it worse. Time has not been changed in many a century of your time, and it has fallen into a pattern. Having  _ anyone _ —let alone Pitch Black—meddle in Time is going to wreak havoc with it.”

Father Time’s words reminded Jack of something, though he could not remember what. Despite his headache intensifying when he tried to focus, Jack paid even closer attention to what Father Time was saying. 

“If he is not stopped, all of Time will collapse! The universe can no longer exist without it, and it will descend into nothingness! Even what was before Time will never exist,” Father Time cried. Having finished his outburst, he rested his head in his hands and remained silent.

Jack suddenly remembered what Father Time’s words had reminded him of. It was the great clock face in his vision! All the many small and strange clocks had formed an overall pattern of an old clock face. A sinking feeling followed this realization, for he remembered what had happened afterward. A miniscule disturbance had occurred, and everything was plunged into that terrifying void. 

After a moment, the anguish in Father Time’s countenance led Jack to try and comfort the old man. “It’s not your fault that Pitch is screwing with Time. There was nothing you could do. Last time, he corrupted Sandy’s dreamsand and turned it into Nightmares.”

Raising his head, Father Time forlornly responded, “I thank you for your kind words, however undeserved they may be. The only redeeming factor in these terrible circumstances is that until Pitch Black returns to the present, the changes will not take full effect. Currently the alterations only impact beings who are no longer impacted by the passing of Time, like yourself.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? It gives us some time to find a way to stop Pitch.”

“Time?” the old man scoffed. “Time is what started this whole mess! However, you do have a point. I came here originally to enlist the Guardians’ aid, due to their experience fighting Pitch Black, but now I realize it would be useless.”

“Why would it be useless? Just send us back in Time to kick Pitch’s butt!”

“Well, for one thing, there are almost certainly two Pitch Blacks running around in whatever time he has chosen to be in, due to his rather long lifespan. This is one of the factors causing the serious instability of Time, as it cannot handle the same individual being in two places at once for extended periods of time. The Guardians are old enough to encounter this problem, and thus their interference would hasten the decay of Time.”

“Maybe I can help. I’m definitely not as old as the other Guardians; I’m only three-hundred and eighteen, give or take a decade,” Jack said, shrugging.

At this answer, an interesting gleam entered Father Time’s eyes, making the gold tones more prominent. Jack was unable to discern what emotion had created it.

“Is that really so?” Father Time asked, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his fingers together in a steeple.

Jack nodded in response to the inquiry, still unsure as to where the conversation was going. Father Time stood up, pulling a pair of half-moon spectacles out of his robe and perching them on his nose.

While pacing around the bed and examining Jack intently, Father Time murmured, “Curious. Curious, indeed.”

_ Why is staring at me like I’m a fascinating new insect in a petri dish? _

“What’s curious?” Jack asked.

“The disturbances have been emanating only from one particular segment of history,” Father Time began. “And to my considerable knowledge, he has not been in any other time, excluding our own. This means that Pitch traveled to that time with a purpose, and therefore will not flee to another time when confronted. The answer to our problem is sitting right before me.  _ You _ must travel back in Time. You do not exist yet then, so you would not have a duplicate running around creating more issues with Time.”

_ So  _ **_that’s_ ** _ why the Man in the Moon was adamant that I’m the only one who can go. _

Hopelessness began darkening the light that had entered Father Time’s eyes. He looked down, and his voice was quiet when he again spoke. “But how? The Gates cannot be used, for they are too unstable. Traveling through them would cause Time to instantly collapse.”

_ There must be a way, or the Man in the Moon wouldn’t have told me to stop Pitch Black. _

“After I started Fading, I blacked out. I dreamed that I was in a place of dark gray fog,” Jack began, hoping that Father Time could find a solution in something that the Man in the Moon said. Jack also wanted to see if Father Time could help him understand the puzzling advice he had been given. Every time Jack tried to make sense of it, his headache worsened.

Father Time’s face softened, and he smiled. “Dreams often impart information and connections from our sleeping minds that we would never have thought of while awake. It is extraordinarily rare for immortals to have a dream, as we do not sleep. With this rarity, it is important to pay great heed to the ones we do have. Pray, continue,” he urged.

“Well, it wasn't exactly a dream…” Jack went on, telling what had happened. As soon as he got to the part where the Man in the Moon was telling Jack why he was the only one who could go, the words refused to come.

_ Does the Man in the Moon not want me to tell Father Time what he said? _

As soon as Jack inwardly asked this question, the memory of Father Time asking the others to leave popped into his mind. The words  _ ‘Some things are for Jack’s ears alone’ _ seemed to echo through his head, surprisingly reducing the headache rather than intensifying it. Although slightly puzzled as to why, Jack obeyed the prompting and only told Father Time that the Man in the Moon had given him some advice about how to stop Pitch.

“He never mentioned anything about me traveling back through Time though. I think it was mostly about what I needed to do once I got there. Right after that, I woke up,” he finished.

Jack was astonished by the change that had come over Father Time as he had related his vision-dream. His golden-brown eyes once again had a twinkle, a light that was magnified by his spectacles. His being fairly radiated suppressed energy. Although lines of determination wrinkled his forehead, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

“It seems as if we have work to do,” Father Time said. “The Man in the Moon would never give a mission that could not be accomplished. We simply need to discover how. Although it will be solely up to you once we manage to send you back in Time, I have faith that you will be able to stop Pitch. However, remember the advice the Man in the Moon has given.”

_ There’s that word again: “Remember…” _

“He does so very sparingly, and only in matters of great importance. Heed his words, for they will undoubtedly aid you immensely. But as for how to put you in the circumstances that they will be of use…” Father Time’s voice trailed off as he began pacing again, absent-mindedly taking off his spectacles and stowing them inside his robe.

Jack tried to think of a solution, but his lack of knowledge about traveling through Time conspired with the pounding in his head; his brain was completely empty of ideas.

“The Gates are unusable,” Father Time muttered. “My powers alone cannot transport you. Unless there is some sort of massive outside force assisting the shift…” Father Time’s eyes widened. “That’s it!”

“What?” Jack eagerly asked.

Father Time seemed not to hear Jack, for he murmured to himself, “Hm… I do hope that North still has one. Then there is the matter of the materials available to us now. It might not even work. And I may need to adjust the magnitude and vortex depth, if Jack is to survive the trip.”

Jack’s eyes widened at Father Time’s last remark. “Wait,  _ what?! _ What exactly do you mean  _ ‘if’ _ I am to survive the trip’?! What are you even thinking of doing?! North still has one what? What materials do you need? Why won’t it work?” Jack burst out, jumping to his feet. He immediately regretted the action, as the landing send a jolt of pain shooting through his already aching skull.

“I was just thinking out loud, pay no attention to my remarks. It will make sense later.” With that declaration, Father Time walked to the door and opened it, stepping out into the hallway.

_ ‘Pay no attention to his remarks’ when they involve me dying?!  _ **_Geez_ ** _! Now I will forget all about my survival of an apparently dangerous plan because ‘it will make sense later’.  _

After a few minutes, Father Time re-entered the room. “North, along with Toothiana and Sandy, will be joining us as soon as that disgruntled-looking yeti can find them and deliver my message. Aster may not be coming, as he seems to be enjoying a rather large bowl of custard in the kitchens.” Jack smirked at Bunnymund’s choice of activity.

_ After all the crap he was giving North about eating cookies, I’m surprised to find Bunny is such a hypocrite… Actually, no, I’m not. _

Jack’s smirk broadened.

“Now, before they arrive, we have a few things that need to be discussed,” Father Time began, recapturing Jack’s attention. “When you arrive—”

_ At least he said ‘ _ **_when_ ** _ you arrive’ instead of ‘ _ **_if_ ** _ you arrive’. _

“—you will be strangely exempted from some of the rules governing Time. Although this may not have any effect in your case, you do age there, but you are restored to your correct and present state when you travel back. In other words, any aging, injuries, and changes in clothing that occurred while in another time will become non-existent. After all, we couldn’t have you standing here and one moment later you are completely changed from what you were before,” Father Time said with a smile.

He continued, “However, I do hypothesise that this unusual phenomenon will work in your favour while you are in a different time. I believe that being excluded from some of Time’s constraints will alleviate your suffering. You see, when people travel through Time, they do not exist, but they experience no discomfort in that state for some peculiar reason. This state of being should overtake you as soon as you shift.”

“So, you’re saying I won’t have this awful headache anymore?”

“I cannot be absolutely sure, as your never-Existence is there before you travel, but I am of the opinion that, yes, you will feel much better,” Father Time replied as he sat back down in his chair. “However, because you do not exist in that time, no one believes in you. This works to our advantage, as you are far less likely to significantly change Histories if you are undetectable to the mortals.”

“What? No one will be able to see me?” Jack hoped the alarm in his voice wasn’t overly evident, but the thought of returning to a life where he was virtually nonexistent terrified him.

“Other immortals will see you, but it would be best for all if you never interact with them. They cannot help you to defeat the present-day Pitch, as they have their hands full with the Pitch of the fifteen-hundreds. Additionally, they have no clue who you are and are just as likely to harm you as to help you. You must remember all this once you are in the past,” Father Time said.

_ Remember. Why is that word stalking me? _

Jack brushed off his thoughts and responded, “I will. I shouldn’t interact with other immortals, and no humans can see, touch, or hear me.”

Father Time smiled. “Right.” Then he paused, a gleam in his eye as he added, “And no blizzards, either. Starting a new Ice Age would only make things worse.”

“Killjoy,” Jack grumbled, playfully impaling Father Time with a dark glare.

Father Time chuckled in response, but a loud knock at the door forestalled any reply he would have made.

“You may enter,” Father Time called out, and the door opened.

A moment later, all of the other Guardians filed into the room. North carefully held a large crate, and Tooth was struggling with a large sack slung over her shoulder. After a moment of wondering what was in their bundles, Jack’s attention moved down the line. He snickered as he saw custard still clinging to Bunnymund’s rabbit whiskers. Jack’s thoughts were diverted from contemplating how to tease Bunny as Sandy immediately bounced forward and surprised Jack by giving him a brief hug.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Jack said in response to the Dreamsand pictures forming above Sandy’s head. “I still have a terrific headache, but it should go away soon.” When a question mark appeared, Jack gestured to Father Time. “He’ll explain in a moment.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a crowbar, would you?” asked Father Time after fruitlessly attempting to open the crate that North had set down.

“I'll give it a go,” said Bunnymund as he pulled out his boomerangs.

“Very well, but by the Seven Stars, be careful! It’s valuable and, unfortunately, very easily activated,” Father Time replied after he stepped aside.

Moving with exaggerated care, Bunnymund inserted the tip of a boomerang in a gap between the planks of the crate to act as a lever. Grunting with exertion, he pushed until the lid came off with a resounding crack.

“CAREFUL!” Father Time exclaimed as Bunny struggled to lift a spherical object roughly a foot in diameter from the box. “Whatever you do, don’t drop it. Set it down,  _ gently _ , on the nightstand, and don’t let it roll away.”

As Father Time rummaged in the sack that Tooth had brought, Jack took an opportunity to examine the all-important object. It reminded Jack of North’s snow globes, but it had golden swirls and runes etched on the crystal surface. Father Time evidently found what he was looking for, as he strode over to Jack.

“Take a long look, for this is one of the only occasions that you will ever see a bit of Everstar,” Father Time said, holding out his hand. Resting on his palm was a silver crystal. It seemed to emit a faint glow that, as Jack looked at it, slowly turned into a bright shining light. He began to reach out toward it, but paused and looked up. When Father Time nodded his approval, Jack let his fingers gently brush against the shard of Everstar.

Jack’s headache became a distant memory as he was instantly filled with a pure and indescribably potent emotion. It was a blissful mixture of peace and love, excitement and happiness. He wanted to linger forever in the feelings it evoked, but after a moment, Jack withdrew his hand. Although it wasn’t as strong, the emotion still lingered, seeming to twine itself deep into his soul. Jack stared as the crystal in awe, heedless as to what the others were doing. Gradually, the aching in his head made itself manifest once more.

“Everstar was a rare gift of the universe. There are not many fragments left in existence. It is unsure exactly how or where it originated, but, as you have just felt, it is incredibly powerful,” Father Time said softly. “But back to business.” He pulled the chair close to the nightstand where the globe resided and sat down in it. “Tooth, will you fetch me the jeweler’s glass from the bag? My spectacles are not powerful enough for the delicate work that needs to be done.”

As Father Time requested materials and worked on the sphere, Jack questioned North about the mysterious object. “What is that thing? Is it like your snow globes? It sure looks a lot like them.”

“Whoa, slow down,” North said, holding up his hands, “It’s called a Gateway. It creates a magic portal, like snow globes. But bigger, much bigger—and stronger. I only have couple left.”

North’s explanation was cut short as a loud banging began ensuing from where Father Time was working. The concussive sounds sent daggers of pain lancing through Jack’s head. Alarm shot through him as he recalled Father Time’s earlier cautioning admonitions to Bunny about the Gateway.

_ If Father Time keeps pounding on it like that, I think we’ll all meet a very messy end… _

Above the noise, Father Time announced, “If you are going to bid Jack farewell, then I suggest you do so now. He won’t be seeing you for a very long time.”

As North drew Jack aside to the corner of the room, the banging ceased. “You got a good head on your shoulders. Use it. But do not forget, what really matter is what’s in here,” he said, tapping Jack’s chest. Surprisingly, he only held out a hand, instead of crushing Jack in a massive bear hug as Jack expected. Clasping each others’ forearms, North pulled Jack close, patted his back, and whispered, “Good luck.”

North stepped aside, allowing Tooth to come forward. She seized Jack in a fierce hug. “Travel safely, okay? You can defeat Pitch—I know you can. But come back alright. Please.”

“Hey, have I ever not been okay? I’ll be fine,” Jack said, attempting to lighten her mood. Although he tried not to show it, Jack was fighting to control his emotions. Tooth’s sincere concern over his well-being, along with both her and North’s support, touched Jack deeply. He struggled to keep tears from welling up in his eyes as Tooth ended the embrace and went back to assisting Father Time.

Bunnymund hesitantly stepped up and held out his paw. Jack took it, and was surprised when Bunny stepped forward and placed his free paw on Jack’s shoulder. Looking into Jack’s eyes, he said, “Watch your back,” before releasing him. Those three simple words spoke volumes about the gruff rabbit’s affection for Jack, feelings that Bunnymund frequently buried underneath layers of irritation and rivalry. 

As he knelt down in front of Sandy, Jack knew he was fighting a losing battle in restraining his emotions. The small man tenderly hugged Jack around the neck before letting go and carefully placing his small hand over Jack’s heart. For once, no sand pictures appeared above his head. They didn’t need to. As Jack looked into Sandy’s golden eyes, he knew that Sandy was telling him that the Guardians would be with him no matter where, or when, he was. But there was a deeper and more important message that Jack could read loud and clear.

_ Follow your heart. _

Jack nodded and said, “I will.” He stood up and made his way to where Father Time was working on the Gateway. When he was a few feet away, a clear ringing note pealed throughout the room, attracting everyone’s attention.

“That should do it!” Father Time triumphantly exclaimed, turning around and carefully holding the Gateway out for inspection. Silver loops and twists had joined the gold etchings on the surface, with one large gold and silver band dividing the globe into hemispheres. But most interesting of all, under the crystal surface a change had taken place. A silvery-lavender light seemed to reside in the very middle of the globe. It seemed so bright, yet no visible illumination went past its transparent container.

“North, Aster, will you please move all the furniture to the corner in between the door and the window?” Father Time asked. Once North and Bunnymund had done what he requested, Father Time called out, “Everyone toward the furniture. This could get a bit messy…” At Father Time’s last remark, everyone hastily took several steps back, though North pressed Jack’s staff into his hands before doing so. When Jack moved to step back too, Father Time grabbed his arm. “Not you, Jack.”

_ I’ve always wanted to have a front-row seat to the opening of a giant magic portal inside a small room. I can’t see how anything could go wrong. _

“Everybody ready?” Father Time questioned as he looked around to ensure the others were at a safe distance.

_ No. _

After hearing the other Guardians’ murmurs of assent, Father Time grunted and heaved the ball forward with all his strength. It was rather anticlimactic when the ball hit the ground. It slowly rolled across the floor, its momentum driving it onward.

_ It didn’t work. Now what? Anybody got another brilliant idea? _

Jack thoughts were silenced when the Gateway softly touched the far wall, creating a massive whump as a large portal appeared. A shockwave of compressed air created by the opening of the portal smashed into Jack, causing him to stagger backwards. The portal, although only slightly larger than the one created by an average snow globe, created a massive pull, dragging Jack and everyone else toward it.

“You have to go!” shouted Father Time above the powerful whooshing of air gushing into the portal. “It will tear the place apart soon, if left open. But be careful! The portal may transfer vel—” Jack would never hear the rest of Father Time’s sentence, for he ran forward and dove through the portal headfirst.

The portal disappeared with a loud pop, leaving a group of very wind-blown people behind. Father Time glanced worriedly at North. “Do your Gateways still transfer velocity from entry to exit points?”

“What, like speedy thing in, speedy thing out?” North questioned. When Father Time nodded, North spread his arms out in an expansive gesture, almost hitting Bunnymund in the face. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Oh dear,” Father Time said, rubbing his forehead. “Oh dear.”

“What’s wrong?” Tooth inquired, concern creasing her brow.

“Well,” Father Time began “…if the portal transfers velocity, given his manner of entrance and the fact that the Gateway acts as an amplifier, I fear Jack will have a  _ very _ uncomfortable exit on the other side.”


	4. Conceal, Don't Feel

A lone figure stood gazing out the window at the masses of people milling about in the walkway to the castle. It seemed almost unfathomable that so many other humans could exist in the world, even though it was only the local townspeople and visiting dignitaries. And today, every eye would rest on her: scrutinizing, evaluating, prying.

From the top of her perfectly coiffed pale-blond hair to the end of the trailing magenta cape, Elsa knew she was dressed impeccably. On the outside, she appeared to be everything a royal should be: poised, regal, and impassive. If only it were as easy to replicate that image inwardly.

Elsa took a deep breath, closing her blue eyes. _Conceal it, don’t feel it. Don’t let it show._

Slowly, she pushed the budding panic and turmoil to a far corner of her mind. Her face would need to be a pleasant mask for the entirety of her coronation and the resulting festivities. Every movement, every expression, would be analyzed and used to judge the new ruler. How had her parents endured day after day, year after year of putting their best faces forward to the public?

_They didn’t have a deadly secret to hide_ , whispered the traitorous part of her mind that kept her ever fearful and tormented her with nightmares.

Turning away from the window in an effort to send her thoughts down a more pleasant path, Elsa found herself studying the painting of her father’s coronation. He had stood firm, resolute—brave in the face of an inescapable life. After that moment, he was no prince. He was King Agdar, responsible for the people and land of Arendelle. Could she do the same? Did she have the strength to assume that responsibility? Even if she didn’t have the courage, the willpower, the fortitude needed to rule, she had no choice. 

The painting reminded her of her duty to the kingdom—and to Anna. She could never force the restrictions and responsibility of the ruling monarch’s role onto her impulsive and carefree sister. She would become queen and take the duties that came with that position; if not for Anna, then because that was what was expected of her. She was the Crown Princess, and always had been. It defined her life—what she learned, how she acted, and who she would become. It didn’t matter what she thought or felt, only if she did what she was supposed to, like a good girl.

Before her thoughts turned fully to bitterness, Elsa focused on the beloved face of her father. He had believed she could do it—so she would. “I won’t let you down,” she whispered, praying her words would somehow reach the realm of departed souls.

She picked up the decorated wooden sphere and candlestick placed beneath the painting, imitations of the golden orb and scepter used in the coronation ceremony. Assuming the position she would need to hold for the duration of the consecrating prayer, Elsa turned around to face the imaginary audience. She knew the motions by heart after physically and mentally rehearsing them so much, but it wasn’t the protocol of the ceremony that worried her.

Elsa’s gaze passed back and forth between the artifact replicas in her hands, and at the frost now enveloping them. Her father had tried so hard to ensure that no one knew about her powers; even Anna was unaware of them. If the magic was revealed, the whole world would know about it—and fear her. She quickly put the objects down, repressing a shudder of horror.

“It’s only for today. You can do this.” The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears, but nonetheless they provided some illusion of comfort. Elsa slipped on her dress-corresponding teal gloves, protecting others from the icy magic that slipped out of her hands. She would need to make her royal appearance soon. The anticipation was agony; perhaps it would be best to get some of the torment over with as quickly as possible.

Elsa deliberately opened the doors that linked her study to the rest of the castle. Lines of waiting servants respectfully lined the walls of the corridor; they had been temporarily hired for the coronation and the traditional ball that would follow. Without even sparing a glance for the servants, she ordered, “Tell the guards to open up the gate.” Elsa slowly walked down the hall toward some glass doors, her spine straight and head up. Without pausing to loosen the knot in her stomach, she opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony—directly into the gaze of everyone in the crowded courtyard below.

Hundreds of eyes fixed on Elsa, their curious stares almost palpable, but at this distance she was no more than a fancily dressed figure. Looking up beyond the crush of people, Elsa prayed for the strength and resilience to carry out the coronation ceremony. After remaining long enough to fulfill the requirements of the royal appearance, she quickly turned around and went inside, closing the doors behind her. The appearance was done, but Elsa’s worry mounted with each passing second. She leaned against a wall and slowly slid down to the floor, pulling up her knees and resting her forehead on her arms. Tears of terror and anxiety welled up in her eyes.

Elsa held the moisture firmly in check. She didn’t have time for a good cry right now, and it would look ridiculous to show up with red and puffy eyes. The foreign dignitaries would no doubt be reporting back, and she knew other countries would be eager to exploit a weak ruler. Likewise, if her powers spilled out in the ceremony, she could be positive that half the world would know about it within a few weeks.

Shaking her mind from that grim line of thought, Elsa realized that she had run out of time. She needed to head to the castle cathedral immediately or she would be late. Elsa lifted her head, breathing in deeply as she did so. Composing her face into a calm and neutral mask, she rose to her feet. She refused to let her father down because she couldn’t control her fear. “Remember,” she reminded herself, “Conceal it, don’t feel it. Don’t let it show.” Elsa straightened her spine and began walking to the cathedral.

As Elsa tensely waited in an antechamber for the coronation to begin, she heard the cathedral bells begin to chime. It was the signal for people to gather in the chapel. Elsa let a faint smile touch her lips at the beautiful and pure ringing sound they made. The smile quickly faded as she thought of the ordeal before her.

A small, hesitant cough interrupted Elsa’s reverie. “Your Highness, it’s time,” a maidservant informed her.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa exited the antechamber and saw Anna waiting. Anna, the only other member of the immediate royal family, would precede her up the aisle and stand nearby for the ordination. As Elsa moved into position near the chapel doors, she could hear the traditional coronation song beginning. The doors were opened by footmen, and Elsa started forward, eyes firmly on her destination at the front of the room.

Every step was a mile, each second an eternity. The sensation of the entire congregation’s curious eyes on her was almost tangible. In the moment everything had a sharp clarity, but Elsa knew that as soon as the ordination was over a haze would fall into place, blurring everything from her memory except the overwhelming onlookers and the panic racing through her veins.

As she moved her feet forward, Elsa momentarily twitched her fingers. The comforting feeling of the gloves, along with the assurance of knowing they were securely in place, would soon be taken from her. In order to become queen, she would need to hold the royal relics barehanded before the assembled crowd. Her deepest fears would be realized if anyone noticed the layer of ice that would inevitably form as soon as her skin made contact. As her feet continued to step forward, Elsa took a deep breath, desperately praying that somehow the dreaded magic would be stripped from her in the next minute or so. Still, after thirteen years of futile petitions, it didn’t seem likely that the gods would answer her plea now. 

Stepping up the dais stairs at the front of the room, Elsa waited for the song to near its conclusion. It was a beautiful piece, bringing to mind calm winter nights when frost was gently drifting down and brilliant lights danced overhead. When the song was in its last few measures, the Archbishop of Arendelle turned toward the cushion on which a new and vastly different crown was placed: a delicate gold piece with a blue jewel in the center—the original having been lost along with her parents.

Elsa’s vision became slightly blurry for a few moments as she remembered her sweet and loving mother. The memories were tantalizingly close, but would forever hover just out of reach. From now on, Queen Iduna was gone, succeeded by Queen Elsa. She bowed her head to receive the crown.

Slowly straightening, Elsa struggled to conceal her anxiety as the Archbishop presented the golden scepter and orb on a velvet cushion. Elsa reached for them, but winced when the Archbishop cleared his throat. Softly, so as not to embarrass her before the guests, he prompted, “Your Majesty, the gloves.” 

Elsa let out an inner sigh; she had hoped he wouldn’t notice. For the first time since the long-ago accident, she had to remove her gloves in public and expose others to the dangerous magic.

She slowly loosened and removed her left glove, followed by its twin, before setting them both on the cushion. Elsa took a shaky breath, dread filling her soul; the next minute would forever change her life—or end it. 

Hands trembling, she cautiously picked up the royal artifacts. Turning around as the archbishop began the ordination prayer, she stared resolutely at the back door and held her breath, vainly hoping it would stop the ice from appearing. Inexorably her gaze was drawn to her bare hands and the objects in them. Frost was starting to form.

After a moment of morbidly watching her doom, Elsa anxiously snapped her gaze again to the back of the room, trying in vain to shut down her powers. She was caught in a twisted and perverse cycle: the ice terrified her, and her emotions strengthened the magic, causing the ice to form faster. Her breath caught in her throat as she prayed for the end of the Archbishop’s dialogue. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion, every torturous second expediting her doom. After an eternity of fearful anguish, Elsa heard the Archbishop began the phrase “Queen Elsa of Arendelle”, signaling the end. Whirling around, she put down the artifacts and desperately pulled on her gloves. 

While looking around at her new subjects and the foreign dignitaries, Elsa swam in an ocean of relief. No one had noticed the slight frost formation. Elsa allowed herself a small smile as she felt traces of genuine contentment seep into her soul. After the ceremony, the traditional ball would be easy and effortless.

***

Jack felt as if he was being simultaneously stretched and squeezed through a tiny rubber tube, tumbling and bouncing downward through an invisible tunnel. The space around him was filled with innumerable, ever-changing wisps of scenes. An intricate and beautiful, yet tuneless symphony seemed to reverberate through his being.

The uncomfortable but strangely fascinating journey ended abruptly with a loud pop. Jack closed his eyes and relished being free of the overwhelming sensations of moments before, as well as his headache. When he felt air rushing past his face, Jack opened his eyes. He was pretty high up, and plunging downwards at an alarming angle. 

Jack tried to slow himself down using his wind powers, but to no avail. Still trying to stop, he looked at his probable crash site: a fjord.

_At least the water will help soften the landing… But didn’t I once hear something about how if you fall from three stories up onto water, it’s just as hard as concrete?_

Jack had no more time to ponder the matter, as he promptly slammed into the waters of the fjord. Having closed his eyes for the collision, Jack was startled when after the initial impact he seemed to be still flying. He looked back and saw waves emanating from where he had hit the water. Jack chuckled; apparently the angle he had been hurtling downward at was shallow enough that he had skipped off the surface.

“That is freaking awesome!”

Distracted by his accomplishment, Jack failed to see what was in front of him. A series of shouts and breaking wood was heard as he plowed through the upper layers of a forest, leaving destruction in his wake. Jack’s memorable flight abruptly ended when a large boulder blocked his path.

After a moment of lying dazed on the ground, Jack sat up. His body ached from either the journey through the portal, hitting the water, or smashing into the rock. Turning to look back, Jack winced at the annihilation he had caused. He groaned as he stood up and began looking for his staff. A sinking feeling ensued when he remembered that amidst the chaos of his landing, there were several cracks of snapping wood.

_Please let it not be broken._

Jack began searching the trail of arboreal carnage even more fervently. Finally, he spotted his intact staff trapped high in the branches of a severely mangled elm tree.

_Thank goodness._

Leaping up to fetch it, he took advantage of the perch to view the surrounding landscape and look for signs of the Nightmare King’s work. 

Although Jack was surrounded by forest, in the opposite direction of the fjord was a mountain range. His gaze was drawn to one mountain that was taller than the rest; it stood straight and proud, exuding an air of dignity. As he studied it, Jack realized it was alone in piercing a faroff bank of clouds, and a sense of sorrow seemed to emanate from it. He shook his head, focusing once more on finding Pitch and determining where he was. Jack looked to the right and saw a large town near a bay in the fjord.

_That town’s gotta have a lot of people. And since Pitch needs people to produce fear..._

His mind made up, Jack took off with his staff in hand, barely skimming above the treetops. As he neared the town, Jack realized that there was a castle on an island near the opening of the bay. People seemed to be flocking toward it in droves, like a herd of lemmings, while the lamps along the bridges to the castle were slowly being lit. Landing on a nearby house, he was content for now to observe what was going on for signs of Pitch.

As Jack’s eyes roved over the crowd, paying special attention to the shadows, he realized that almost everyone was in formal dress. Apparently there was a fancy celebration going on at the castle. Dropping down into an alleyway, Jack made his way to a young peasant boy watching the parade of people near the entrance of the alley.

_Maybe he can help me._

“Excuse me,” Jack said, and the boy turned around. “Could you tell me what—”

Jack stopped speaking when the boy ran right through him, leaving a chilling and void-like sensation that Jack had thought he’d never feel again.

“No…” he whispered, horrified. “No, no, no, NO!”

_Did I just dream it all? What if I never became a Guardian? What if I never was believed in?_

Jack began to grow more panicked. He looked at his staff, and saw the small cracks covered with frost about halfway up.

_If I dreamed it, then Pitch would never have broken my staff, and those wouldn’t be there._

Jack held on to that information like a lifeline. Once the alarm began fading, he recalled that Father Time had said that no mortals would be able to see, touch, or hear him. It would be difficult to swallow, but he grimly reasoned that preventing the end of Time as we know it was worth the painful loneliness. Gritting his teeth, he shifted his grip on his staff before continuing his search.


	5. Midnight Memories

Jack prowled through the town, searching for any sign of the Bogeyman. Hands tensely gripping his staff, he strained his senses for anything out of place. Every shadow acquired a sinister quality, and Jack was aware that at any moment Pitch could make an appearance. It was tiring and nerve-wracking work. Finally, after several hours passed, he had to admit defeat; Jack had searched the whole town, and there was nothing indicating Pitch’s presence. Jack flipped up his hood and felt his jaw clench as he considered the futility of his hunt.

_ That was a waste of time. I have no idea where Pitch is. He could be on the other side of the world for all I know! _

“Why did the portal bring me here? What am I supposed to be doing?!” Jack asked aloud, expecting no answers from the summer wind. A recollection passed through his mind, and suddenly his frustration narrowed on a target. “You said that only I could come and fix whatever Pitch messed up, but how am I supposed to do that if I don’t even know what he did?!” With each question, Jack’s volume had increased until he was yelling uselessly into the night.

Jack stared at the moon, challenging it to provide answers. When none came, he slammed his staff into the ground before taking off toward the bay. He skimmed over the small waves, his toes and staff tracing frosty patterns that quickly dissolved. As his pace slowed to a lazy drift, Jack saw his reflection in the calm water. Not wanting to face his ineptitude for the task laid before him, Jack flipped over to view the sky. His breath caught in his throat.

Incredibly brilliant stars blanketed the velvet blackness of night. The last time Jack had seen the sky alive with so many vibrant lights was decades ago, before light pollution began dimming the stars. He floated above the water for long moments, appreciating the beauty of the heavens and the memories they evoked.

_ “Jack, we should be in bed right now,” protested Emma, although she made no effort to pull her hand from his. _

_ He smiled down at his well-behaved sister. “Come on, it’s only for a few minutes.” Jack looked at the grassy knoll that was their destination. “I promise it will be fun,” he added. _

_ Emma remained silent, though she continued to allow herself to be led along. When Jack stopped at the small hill, she released a puff of air before asking, “What did you want to show me?” _

_ Jack sat down and patted the ground next to him. “If you want to see it, you have to lie down.” _

_ “Jack!” Emma exclaimed, stomping her foot. _

_ Ignoring the outburst, Jack stretched out on the grass and crossed his ankles. When she realized that no response would be forthcoming, Emma sighed and flopped back on the turf next to her brother. Jack could tell the exact moment Emma’s attention shifted to the sky above her. His little sister’s breathed utterance of “Wow…” brought a smile to Jack’s face. He had known that Emma would love the spectacle of the night sky filled with luminous stars. _

_ Breaking the silence, Jack said, “If you connect the stars, they can make pictures.” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “See those three bright stars in a line over there?” he asked, pointing to the lights in question. _

_ “Yes…” _

_ “That’s the belt of a mighty hunter called Orion,” he explained. _

_ After a few moments, Emma said, “I don’t see him. Are you tricking me?” _

_ Jack hid a grin at his sister’s wariness. While most of the time her fears were well-founded, his antics around Emma never went beyond brotherly teasing. _

_ “No,” Jack replied. “I’m not playing a trick. Those three stars making an arrow are his head and shoulders. That curved line is his bow, and—” _

_ “Those ones are his legs!” Emma excitedlyinterrupted. “I see him! But if he’s a hunter, what is he hunting?” _

_ Jack proceeded to spin the tale of Orion and Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt. When other constellations were mentioned in the telling, Jack pointed them out too. After the story was done, Emma asked if he could show her more pictures in the stars. _

_ Jack chuckled at her enthusiasm before standing up and replying, “Not tonight. We’ve stayed up much later than I thought we would.” He extended a hand and helped his sister to her feet before adding, “Not to mention we should have been in bed over an hour ago.” _

_ Emma gasped in horror at the seemingly enormous infraction that they had committed. She began frantically pulling at Jack’s hand. “Come on! Hurry up! We have to get back!” _

_ Jack stumbled a few steps forward at his sister’s insistent tugging before freeing his hand. “Whoa, slow down. It won’t matter if we are a few more minutes late, and I don’t want you breaking an ankle in the dark. Besides, it ruins the fun if we go racing off. Let’s just walk back at a nice, slow pace, okay?” _

_ “Alright…” Emma agreed, the frown on her brow lessening. _

_ While they were walking the short distance back to the house, a flash of light caught Jack’s attention. _

_ “Look! A falling star!” he said, pointing. _

_ Emma sighed in amazement as the streak made its way across the sky. _

_ “Falling stars are lucky,” he explained. “Make a wish.” _

_ His little sister turned around and looked Jack in the eye before saying, “I wish that you will be my big brother forever and ever.” Emma seized his waist in a hug before fervently whispering, “Thank you.” _

_ Jack returned the embrace for a long, precious moment. Finally the little imp within surfaced, and he began to tickle Emma’s exposed sides. His younger sister squealed and tried to pull away, but the torturous teasing continued. Finally Jack gave in and let her go. _

That was the first of many nights of stargazing, storytelling, and fun. Jack grinned as he recalled the numerous times when his sister would fall asleep lying on the ground, forcing him to carry her back to the house. Their mother would smile and relieve him of his precious load, putting Emma to bed.

“Thank you,” Jack whispered, looking at the moon. Somehow, he knew that it had played a part in evoking the sweet remembrances, helping to relieve his frustrations and remind him why he chose to become a Guardian.

Jack raised himself up to a standing position, letting his hood fall down onto his shoulders. As he did so, he caught a flicker of light in his peripheral vision. Turning toward it, Jack realized it was a reflection of the castle with every window aglow.

_ I wonder what they’re celebrating… That was a crazy herd of people heading there earlier. _

Curiosity aroused, Jack flew toward the isolated castle. As he drew nearer, he could hear music and laughter ringing through the air. Finding an open window, Jack slipped inside. Following his ears, as well as his nose, he made his way through numerous corridors to the ballroom. It seemed like hundreds of people were occupying the room. The bright colours of elegant evening wear snagged Jack’s attention, and he paused to watch the swirling patterns of the dancers gliding across the floor. 

Suddenly they all stopped, turning as one to face the front of the room as two women stepped onto the raised dais. Jack chuckled as the red-haired woman stumbled, watching her awkwardly climb the steps before shifting his gaze to the woman beside her. Her pale blond hair seemed familiar, and Jack found himself drifting closer, trying to get a better look.

***

Elsa felt a small smile upon her face as she listened to the music and laughter coming from the ballroom. The last time she had heard such sounds was when she was a little girl, staying up late and sneaking away from her nurse to watch the colorful festivities. The opening number was drawing to a close, and it was time for her to be presented.

Slowly and regally, Elsa made her way to the raised dais at an end of the ballroom. She heard the fanfare and Kai’s raised voice as he announced her. Elsa was completely engrossed as she turned to face the bowing and curtseying guests. While maintaining a dignified bearing, she allowed her eyes to sweep the room, soaking in the vibrant colors and atmosphere. Never before had she been so immersed in humanity.

Elsa was still overcome with fascination at the scene before her when she heard Anna being announced. Still gazing upon the guests, Elsa’s smile grew as she listened to her sister’s unconventional entrance. Elsa’s contentment only increased when she realized that, for the first time in forever, she would be able to freely associate with Anna. As that thought came to her mind, Elsa turned to her sister.

“Hi.”

“H—hi me?” Anna said, gesturing to herself. Elsa gave a small nod, confirming it. “Oh! Umm… hi.”

It wasn’t the best response, but considering the fact that they hadn’t spent time face-to-face in years, it was actually pretty good. Wanting to reconnect with her sister, Elsa tried to keep the conversation going.

“You look beautiful.” Despite her ulterior purpose, Elsa’s compliment was sincere. Her sister was wearing a lovely dress with a black bodice and an olive box-pleated skirt; beautiful teal and pink rosemaling completed the ballgown. Anna had put her light auburn hair in a bun, with a part braided and used as a headband. She looked so different from Elsa’s memories of a hyperactive little girl, but there were numerous similarities as well, such as the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

“Thank you,” Anna replied.“You look beautiful-er.” Realizing how it sounded, she hurriedly tried to clarify, “I mean, not ‘fuller’. You don’t look fuller, but mor—more beautiful.” Elsa softly laughed, amused at Anna’s attempt to recover from sticking her foot in her mouth.

“Thank you,” she said, graciously accepting the compliment and brushing over Anna’s gaffe. Turning her eyes toward the seething masses of humans, Elsa commented, “So, this is what a party looks like.”

Elsa’s eyes grew large with fascination at the sight of people organizing for the next dance. All her senses were striving to capture the fantastic scene in front of her. Elsa sensed a sweet and mouthwatering scent in the air. As Anna somewhat nervously interjected, “It’s warmer than I thought,” Elsa had the thought that her sister might be able to identify the tantalizing aroma.

“What is that amazing smell?” Closing her eyes, she took a deep sniff, unaware that Anna was doing the same thing. At last she could place it, and Anna and Elsa simultaneously identified it aloud: “Chocolate!” they exclaimed, before dissolving into giggles.

A few moments after Elsa and Anna regained control of their laughter, Kai interjected, “Your Majesty,” and gesturing to the short and thin man beside him, he continued, “The Duke of Weaseltown.”

The duke hastily corrected him, snapping, “Weselton!” Moderating his tone, he added, “The Duke of Weselton, Your Majesty.” Elsa studied the man as he strode closer.

The duke was a virtual opposite of the balding, overweight, and good-natured administrative steward beside him. His large round head and protruding triangular nose were at odds with his slight frame. He had large circular spectacles and a sleek but bushy silver-grey mustache that trembled as he spoke. “As your closest partner in trade, it seems only fitting that I offer you your first dance as queen.” He followed his proposal with a strange arm and leg flapping dance, going down for a spin before jumping up and performing a deep bow with his hand extended. As he did so, his hair flipped forward, exposing a bald scalp, and the lack thereof. Anna gasped, and both she and Elsa erupted into snickers at the absurd sight. The duke continued his bow, completely unaware of his hairpiece fiasco.

Elsa cleared her throat, trying to stifle the laughter that threatened to burst forth. When she had regained her outward composure, she replied to the duke’s request. “Thank you, only I don’t dance.” Not wanting to offend him, she diplomatically gestured to Anna and added, “But my sister does.” Elsa knew that while she was secluded in her room, sometimes learning the basics of ruling from her father, Anna had explored many venues of activity, horseback riding and dancing being a few.

“What?”

The duke eagerly leaped forward and seized Anna by the arm, even as she spoke. “Oh! Lucky you.”

As she was being virtually dragged off the dais, Anna protested, “Oh, I don’t think—” She never had the opportunity to finish her sentence, as she was being pulled rapidly through the crowd.

Above the noise, Elsa could hear the eccentric man saying, “If you swoon, let me know. I’ll catch you!”

Elsa smiled at the comicality of the situation. She hadn’t meant to put Anna in such an awkward position. Even knowing that her sister was long gone, Elsa made a small wave, and uttered, “Sorry,” while still grinning.

Her smile broadened as she watched the duke madly cavort around Anna, though she winced in sympathy when he tread on Anna’s foot. The duke had made two flamboyant rotations around Anna before leaning in extremely close and bending her backward in a low dip. Elsa laughed in spite of herself, quickly raising a hand to hide her amusement at her sister’s predicament; bent backward over the duke’s arm, Anna grinned and made a face in response. The duke pulled Anna up, spun her, and resumed crazily capering about. Elsa ceased watching her sister as yet another important official and his wife were being presented. As they left, Anna made her way to the dais.

Elsa could faintly hear the peculiar duke calling out, “Let me know when you’re ready for another round, Milady.”

Witnessing the heavy breathing and disheveled state of her sister, Elsa commented, “Well, he was sprightly.”

Anna groaned. “Especially for a man in heels!” she remarked as she reached down to rub her injured foot. Elsa chuckled slightly at her sister’s facial expression.

“Are you okay?” Elsa inquired.

Straightening up and smiling, Anna replied, “I've never been better; this is so nice.” Hope crept into her tone as she added, “I wish it could be like this all the time.”

“Me too.” Right now, in this moment, everything was perfect. Elsa’s smile faded as her gaze shifted to a white streak on the left of Anna’s hair—a streak put there because she couldn’t control her powers. Elsa looked away from the painful reminder. “But it can’t.”

“But why not?” Anna reached toward Elsa as she protested. “I mean if we—” Elsa abruptly turned away to prevent Anna’s hands from touching her.

“It just can’t!” Elsa wanted so badly to tell Anna, but her father’s voice echoed in her head:  _ “It’s for the best.” _

Anna’s voice cracked as she quietly said, “Excuse me for a minute.” As she started to walk away, Elsa saw Anna wrap her arms around her waist in a gesture of self-comforting. Elsa’s inner pain multiplied a hundredfold knowing that she had hurt Anna once again. The agony and grief was almost unbearable. Elsa’s mind took her to a time many years ago, just after the accident.

Elsa had just been talking to her father in his study. When she was entering her room, Anna came racing around the corner. At the sight of her sister, Anna stopped, but as she drew breath to speak, Elsa sadly slipped into her room and closed the door.

As this long lost scene flashed through Elsa’s mind, she thought how closely it resembled the events of a minute ago. Anna reached out, and Elsa—out of necessity—shut her out, leaving Anna hurt and wondering what she did wrong. In an attempt to bury her grief, Elsa began to mingle with her guests. But as she did so, she felt someone watching her. Elsa shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. Of course people were watching her; she was the new queen and the reason this ball was taking place.


	6. Secrets Revealed

The ambassadors of  Hibernia and West Gael were paying their respects to Elsa when she heard her sister’s voice.

“Elsa!” Anna called out, heedless of social properties.

Elsa looked over to see her sister and an immaculately dressed gentleman before she politely dismissed herself.

“I mean, Queen,” corrected Anna, bobbing a hurried curtsey. “Me again. Umm…” Drawing the gentleman a few paces behind her forward, Anna continued in an official tone of voice, “May I present Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.”

Prince Hans bowed and respectfully said, “Your Majesty.”

As Elsa courteously nodded an acknowledgment, she wondered why Anna had gone out of her way to introduce this gentleman. His strong features and auburn hair with a natural wave combined to make a relatively handsome man. Elsa raised an eyebrow when her sister threaded her arm through the prince’s.

“We would like—” Anna and Prince Hans began speaking simultaneously. “Uh, your blessing…” Prince Hans continued while Anna giggled. He stopped and smiled at Anna before they finally finished in unison “…of our marriage!”

“Wh—marriage?” Elsa exclaimed, surprised. To her knowledge, her parents hadn’t entered into a betrothal agreement for either her or Anna before they died, and Elsa hadn’t heard anything recently about a marriage proposal from Kai.

“Yes!” Anna nearly squealed in response.

Elsa hesitated, not liking where this was going. “Excuse me, but I’m confused,” she said, forcing a small smile as she waited for an explanation.

“Well, we still haven’t worked out the details ourselves,” Anna qualified. Turning to Prince Hans, Anna continued, “We’ll need a few days to plan the ceremony. Of course, we’ll have soup, roast, and ice cream. And then—” Anna gasped and clutched at the prince’s other arm. “Wait! Would we live here?”

“Here?” Elsa questioned. Her brow furrowed; what on earth was her sister doing?

“Absolutely!” Prince Hans enthusiastically agreed, looking into Anna’s eyes.

“Anna,” she interrupted, her worry increasing. Her sister continued on, ignoring Elsa’s attempted plea for an explanation.

“Ooh! We can invite all twelve of your brothers to stay with us!”

“What?” Elsa could feel events spiraling wildly out of control. No guests could stay in the palace until she could restrain the turbulent powers! “No, no, no,” she objected, but Anna prattled on, her words coming quickly in her excitement.

“Of course we have the room, and I know some of them would like to—”

“Wait!” Elsa firmly interceded. All of this talk about guests and weddings needed to be nipped in the bud. “Slow down. No one’s brothers are staying here. No one is getting married.”

Anna finally stopped, her expression stunned. “Wait, what?” she said, stepping closer.

“May I talk to you, please?” Elsa burst out, wringing her hands. “Alone?”

The wounded expression on her sister's face before Anna's abrupt departure had haunted Elsa as she struggled to keep a pleasant face for the public. An internal debate had been sparked, dragging on for hours. Should she keep their father’s wishes about Anna’s ignorance to her powers? Now, she had impulsively made a decision; she would swear Anna to secrecy, tell her about the magic, and hope that her sister would still accept her.

“No,” Anna said, her expression hardening. Retreating to Prince Hans side, she added, “Whatever you have to say, you can say to both of us.”

“Fine,” Elsa cooly said, adopting a detached social mask to hide the hurt. She should have known better than to think that Anna would want to talk to the sister that had shut her out for years. At least if she couldn’t talk to Anna about her powers, she could steer her away from a tragic mistake. As Anna was now clinging to Prince Hans’ arm, Elsa could tell that anything short of blunt fact would be useless in discouraging her persistent sister.

“You can’t marry a man you just met.”

“You  _ can _ if it’s true love,” Anna argued, her eyes filled with the optimism of youthful naivety.

“Anna,” Elsa began, “what do you know about true love?” 

“Well, more than you! All  _ you _ know is how to shut people out.”

Elsa sharply inhaled, the painful sting of her sister’s words amplified by their truthfulness. Doubts surfaced in Elsa’s mind. Was that true? Did she even know how to open up to people anymore? All she had done for years was avoid interacting with people—including, to some degree, her parents. Shaking off the hurtful thought, Elsa focused on the task on hand: Anna’s foolish expectations needed to be firmly checked.

“You ask for my blessing, but my answer is no.” Elsa had difficulty keeping a calm, neutral tone. After repairing her impassive mien, she added, “Now, excuse me.”

Elsa had started walking away when Prince Hans carefully began, “Your Majesty, if I may ease your—”

Elsa quickly cut him off. “No, you may not. And I—I think you should go.” She knew she had just committed a terrible social gaffe, but Anna’s earlier comment had pierced her deeply. Elsa could feel her composure rapidly slipping, and knew that it couldn’t be recovered with the crowds of people filling the palace.

As Elsa walked past a nearby palace guard, she informed him, “The party is over. Close the gates.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard murmured. Elsa continued moving toward the door, even when she heard Anna call, “Elsa! No, no. Wait!”

Elsa gasped and turned around, fear engulfing her as she felt her left glove being pulled off. “Give me my glove!” she demanded, making a desperate grab for the article in Anna’s hands while keeping her bare hand beneath her cape. Everyone in the room was in danger while her hand was exposed!

“Elsa, please,  _ please _ !” Anna pleaded. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

Tears began to blur Elsa’s vision as she prepared herself to pronounce the words that would seal her solitary fate: “Then leave.”

Anna visibly recoiled in shock, tears welling in her eyes. Elsa looked at her sister for a moment, remorse and guilt tearing at her insides. She had hurt Anna—again. She wished she could take the words back, but that was impossible. Besides, it would be better if Anna  _ did _ leave—safer for her sister. Elsa sighed and turned away in resignation, making for the exit. 

“What did I ever do to you?!” Anna challenged, her pained voice ringing throughout the room.

“Enough, Anna,” Elsa tensely bit out. Her control was swiftly being eroded by the words, spawned from hurt, that came from her sister’s mouth. Waves of hidden grief and regret lanced through Elsa’s consciousness. Exhaling, she quickened her step as the feelings grew ever stronger.

“No, why? Why do you shut me out?” Anna continued to demand answers to the questions that had likely been swirling around in her thoughts for years. 

Elsa sighed and closed her eyes, desperately trying to suppress her rising emotions. 

“Why do you shut the world out?” Anna’s voice rose in volume. “What are you so  _ afraid _ of?!”

At that question Elsa’s emotions boiled over, with anger taking the forefront.

Anna didn’t understand how much it hurt to be alone every day. Anna didn’t understand how it felt to know that at any moment she could kill someone without trying. Anna didn’t understand, and she could  _ never _ understand!

“I said,  _ enough!” _ Elsa whirled around, her bared hand slicing through the air.

Blue light flashed, exploding outwards in an arc as Elsa felt a vicious current of energy flow through her. A glistening semi-circle of icy daggers appeared, creating a deadly barrier between Elsa and the rest of the room. Dread like she’d never known seemed to create a hollow cavern inside her.

“Sorcery…” The word was hissed like a black curse, echoing throughout the room.

Elsa fearfully looked at Anna for her reaction. “Elsa…” her sister whispered in apparent horror.

Suspicions confirmed, Elsa frantically groped for the door handle that she knew was behind her. Finding it, she flung it open and fled from the room of terrified and accusing stares.

Elsa ran through the palace, shoes tapping on the wooden floor. Adrenaline raced through her veins; she had to escape—now, before it could get any worse. Elsa desperately prayed she would find an exit soon; her only guide were childhood recollections from years before. As Elsa darted around unfamiliar corners, a small part of her brain reflected that she was a stranger in her own home.

Hope bloomed in Elsa’s chest as she saw a hanging on the wall ahead. Was that—yes it was! That tapestry hung on the wall across from the main entrance. Elsa flung open the large spruce doors, stopping when she saw the masses of people congregated in the courtyard.

“There she is!” someone shouted, and everyone’s heads turned in Elsa’s direction. She stood there, frozen, stunned at the thunderous applause. Why were they clapping for her? They should be running in fear, not cheering her name! Elsa's gaze darted around the courtyard as she struggled to comprehend what was going on, but rapidly approaching footsteps brought Elsa back to her senses. Looking down the corridor that she had come from, she gasped; three men were pursuing her.

Elsa gathered her skirt in her hands, lifting the hem far above what was proper, and ran down the front steps. She wove her way through a group of people before pausing; a wall of applauding subjects barred her way. Changing her direction, Elsa tried to make her way through the crowd, but no matter where she turned people blocked her path.

In front of Elsa, a woman with her baby in her arms inquired, “Your Majesty, are you alright?”

Completely overwhelmed, Elsa shook her head and mechanically mumbled a response. She backed away, terror engulfing her as she realized the helplessness of her situation. Those men would appear any second. Elsa frantically looked about, desperately searching for a way to escape. As she continued to step back, Elsa bumped into something hard and reflexively caught herself with her hands. Twisting to see what it was, Elsa gasped and watched in horror as the fountain froze in a grotesque sculpture.

“There she is!” a voice shouted amidst the astonished murmurings of the gathered townspeople. Elsa turned to see the Duke of Weselton on the steps, pointing at herself. “Stop her!”

When the two men flanking the Duke began to advance, Elsa put up her hands to ward them off. “Please, just stay away from me.” They kept walking, and a wave of fear pulsed through her. “Stay  _ away!” _

Light flashed around her ungloved hand, and Elsa panicked as she felt the pull of energy. A bolt of deadly magic flew across the air to shatter on the steps below the Duke, throwing him and the other men back. Ice burst outward, coating anything nearby, with huge jagged spikes appearing at the edge of the blast. The assembled villagers gasped as one.

“Monster…” the Duke called out from the ground, an accusing finger aimed at Elsa. “Monster!” Her gaze dropped to her hands, staring at them in revulsion. Was it true? Was she a monster?

The cry of a baby made Elsa look up. As soon as she did so, the people nearby instantly drew back—including the mother who had, moments before, shown concern for her. Elsa looked to another portion of the crowd and saw the fear blatant on their faces as they, too, moved away. A haunting memory from years ago made its way to the forefront of Elsa’s mind.

_ The peaceful blue figure of a young woman, framed by silhouettes, appeared in the night sky. _

_ “Your power will only grow.”  _

_ Threads of magic began flowing off the fingertips of the lady. The crowds looked on in awe as a giant snowflake was created overhead. _

_ “There is beauty in it, but also great danger.” _

_ Red overcame the tranquil blue of the snowflake, distorting its form into a jagged shape. _

_ “You must learn to control it.” _

_ The admiring people followed the snowflake, becoming infused with red light. Their forms’ changed, acquiring a twisted and sinister look. _

_ “Fear will be your enemy.” _

_ The angular red figures swiftly moved, viciously extinguishing the young woman. Her last wordless cry of terror and pain remained on the air, long after the images faded. _

It was starting. People were afraid. The vision shown to Elsa was coming true. The scene around her was straight from the darkest of her nightmares. She had to get away from here, before it was too late. Elsa started running once again, but not to the main gate. There were too many people—too much danger. Elsa’s goal was a side entrance she had spotted earlier. Halfway across the courtyard, she could faintly hear Anna calling her name. 

Elsa reached the door and threw it open, dashing through a brief passageway into the open air. She was beginning to run out of breath as she rushed down a carved stone stair, halting at the bottom. In front of Elsa were the deep waters of the fjord. The path ended here—she was trapped.

At the sound of Anna shouting her name again, Elsa turned around. Her sister was still out of view in the passageway, but Elsa knew that she would be rapidly closing. She inched backwards, pausing when she felt a strange crunching sensation beneath her feet. Elsa looked at the ground behind her and gasped; ice was radiating from her feet, freezing the water and the damp ground of the shore.

“Wait, please!” Anna cried, causing Elsa to look up at the passage where her sister had emerged. 

Elsa returned her attention to the water’s frozen surface, abruptly exhaling when an idea formed. Not sure if it would hold, she tentatively placed her foot on the ice. A glowing snowflake spread around her foot, spreading and thickening the icy magic. Her escape at hand, Elsa looked up to find her course. Tall mountains, caps yet covered in snow despite the season, rose on the horizon beyond the fjord. Mountains meant isolation and hard travel, providing protection and concealment from search parties.

Her eyes set firmly on her destination, Elsa sprinted across the fjord on the ice forming beneath her feet. She clutched at the fastenings to her billowing cape, then released her grip when she realized that keeping the garment no longer mattered. Elsa’s breaths had started to come hard and fast when she faintly heard Anna calling to her from the shore. She continued running without a backwards glance.

***

The wind rushed through Jack’s hair as he flew toward the fleeing figure. His mind was in turmoil, the events of the past few minutes replaying themselves in his head. After overhearing murmured gossip circulating about the newly-coronated queen, he had tried to get a closer look at her. But the ballroom was packed with elegantly attired guests, and he had no desire to feel them pass through his body like he was a ghost. Curious, Jack had waited in a deserted alcove as the evening progressed. Eventually he became tired of the festivities, and was about to leave when an altercation broke out between the queen and her sister. He had been too far away to distinctly make out any words, but it was obvious that the princess was angered as the young queen began walking away.

Jack clearly recalled his shock when the queen spun around, blue light streaming from her hand to create a sharp icy barrier. He had stood there, staring in astonishment at the line of magical ice; he had never heard anything, not even rumours, of another person possessing the powers of ice or snow. Jack was even more astounded to see that the magic appeared to be possessed by a mortal. His mind raced, struggling to process this new discovery and its significance. By the time Jack became aware of his surroundings, the queen had vanished. Following some shouts, he had exited the palace in time to see her running across the waters of the fjord, leaving ice in her wake.

Something in Jack had awakened: a desire to meet this individual who possessed ice magic, a need to know someone who could truly understand a unique aspect of his life—the tingle of power rushing through him to create a drifting snowfall, the thrill of accomplishment that arose at seeing beautiful icy designs appear on a surface. The minute feelings that no one else could ever know, unless they experienced it for themselves.

Jack’s mind returned from its musings when he saw the new queen slow down and lean against a tree, a lone shaft of moonlight making its way through the branches to illuminate her figure. Landing on a large rock, Jack took a moment to study the young woman. Her head was bowed and she was breathing heavily; it was obvious that she wasn’t used to running hard for extended periods of time. When he looked back in the direction of the palace, Jack was surprised to see how far they had come in just a few minutes. 

_ What made her go so far into the woods without stopping? I can understand wanting to be alone after a family fight, but this seems kinda extreme. _

Deciding that question would probably be answered if he stuck around long enough, Jack returned to his observation of the queen. She had pale blond hair—he had noticed that much earlier in the ballroom. Now, able to see her more clearly, Jack briefly wondered if she was the young lady from his vision. The blonde hair, the sense of familiarity—Jack’s brow furrowed as he stared. When no moment of revelation occurred, however, he shrugged it aside.

_ Just focus on what you’re here to do: find Pitch and stop him. Stop obsessing over random girls. _

Despite Jack’s renewed resolve, he found himself reluctant to leave. He had straightened up half a dozen times, ready to take flight—but somehow still remained, perched on the boulder. Finally Jack had to admit to himself the reason why he still lingered: his curiosity surrounding the young queen had not been satisfied.

_ Ok, I’ll stay for five minutes longer, but that’s it. After that, I leave. No matter what. _

Jack repositioned himself so he was comfortably sitting on the rock, leaning forward on his staff. As soon as he had done so, the young woman’s head snapped up, revealing striking blue eyes. And those eyes seemed to be focused on him. Jack held perfectly still, not daring to breathe. After a few seconds, the queen glanced nervously backward and hurried onward, passing a few feet away from Jack. The acute sting of disappointment hollowed a pit in his stomach; for a moment, Jack had thought she could see him, that he wasn’t alone. 

For the second time in Jack’s life, he was stuck in that frightening world where no one knew he existed.

“Get over it. You lived with it for three-hundred years; you can survive until you find and stop Pitch,” Jack muttered, but his assurances sounded empty, even to his own ears. 

He was about to take off when he felt the nagging of his conscience. One of his father’s mandates had been to always make sure that women, children, and the elderly arrived home safely. While Jack could argue that the queen’s ice magic made her able to defend herself, he knew that no amount of persuasion would silence that little voice in his head. He took off, tailing the queen from a distance. It required some creativity where the trees were thick and close together, and more than once he was required to walk to avoid losing sight of the blonde-haired woman. Much to Jack’s surprise, it started to snow.

_ Whoa, did I accidentally do that? _

He searched his mind, trying to place the moment where icy magic had unconsciously flowed through his veins and out of his staff. Finding nothing, Jack finally concluded that the peculiar snowfall was not his doing.

_ But why is it snowing? It’s the middle of summer here. _

Casting his mind about for an explanation, he realized that the queen’s ice magic might be able to create snow too. Interest piqued, he flew closer to the young lady, taking advantage of his invisibility. As the snow started to accumulate on the ground, Jack was surprised when the queen seemed to take no notice of it. She wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather, being in a ballgown and slippers, though he supposed the long cape she wore gave some added warmth.

“Hmm… that’s odd,” he commented aloud.

She was only wearing one glove—the other hand was bare.

_ Maybe it’s some sort of ceremonial tradition or something. _

He was distracted from the queen’s fashion choices when she stopped, and he accidentally flew right through her.

“I’ll never get used to that feeling,” Jack groused, chafing his arms in an attempt to send the tingling chills away.

_ But why did she stop? _

His question was answered the second he took a look at his surroundings; a beautiful waterfall tumbled into a shallow pool that was surrounded by willow trees. The calming scene was drenched in glowing moonlight, and a dusting of snow provided the final touch. It looked like something straight out of a fairytale painting.

“Well, I gotta hand it to ya. You’ve got a good sense of direction to find a place like this.” He knew the young queen couldn’t hear him, but talking to her at least provided some semblance of human contact. Still, gauging from her drooping posture as she sat upon the ground, he wouldn’t have a conversational partner for long. As he watched, the young woman slowly lost the battle against fatigue. After only a minute or two, she lay on the ground, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Don’t worry,” Jack told her. “I’ll keep you safe. Sweet dreams.” He smiled, hoping that Sandy had something special in store.

The temperature grew colder and snowflakes continued to drift down as the rushing waterfall froze. Jack spent the night keeping watch, the queen’s unseen guardian.


	7. Cursed

Elsa lay with her head on her arms, drifting in the detached state between sleep and wakefulness. She could feel the sun’s rays warming her cheek, signalling morning’s arrival, but her eyes remained closed. Every moment unconscious was another moment not engulfed in the emptiness of her waking life, so why did it matter if she lingered in the embrace of sleep?

Several minutes passed and it became clear that she would not be able to return to the oblivious state of slumber she desired. Sighing, she reluctantly opened her eyes to see snow-laden trees surrounding her. Elsa gasped and instantly pushed herself up to a sitting position, dozens of thoughts swirling around her head as memories from the previous night assailed her. Predominant amidst the chaos was the need to get as far away as possible.

Glancing around with apprehension, Elsa stood up. She had scarcely made it three steps when a cold shiver ran down her spine—she was being watched. Conducting a thorough inspection of her surroundings, and seeing nothing amiss, Elsa concluded that she was alone. Her fears must have been giving the impression of unseen observers. While the sensation did not diminish, she shoved it to the back of her mind as she hastily moved forward.

With every step she took, she was farther away from home than she had ever been. Once, many years ago, that would have felt liberating. But now, she would give almost anything to return to the life she knew. A lone tear trickled down her face. She could never go back; people knew about the magic now—they were afraid. 

At least she had a few more memories of Anna to cling to during the lonely years ahead. Elsa closed her eyes, replaying the cherished minutes she had spent with her sister. Inevitably, that final moment seared its way through the pleasant recollections. Opening her eyes, Elsa futilely tried to dispel the image of her sister’s eyes wide open with hurt and horror. The young queen furiously dashed the tears from her cheeks, but more replaced them. The frigid breeze of moments before grew fiercer with terrible gusts, howling with a vengeance. Elsa knew she should shove aside the hurt and calm down, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it. All she was capable of was moving one foot in front of the other, relishing the stinging of the bitter wind blasting her face. She deserved it. She deserved the discomfort, the pain of a life in exile, the agony of knowing she had failed her father.

_ She was a monster who couldn’t seem to stop hurting people. _

When her feet ached and her legs felt like lead-filled jelly, Elsa finally sat down to rest . She had no idea how much time had passed during her mindless hike, but from the position of the sun, it had been several hours. Her tears had finally ceased, and she couldn’t muster the energy to continue, despite the ever present impression of watching eyes. 

Elsa’s stomach rumbled, breaking through the apathetic mentality that always followed a bout of tears. She realized with a start that not only had her last meal been before the ball the previous night, but she had no way of providing food for herself in the wilderness.

“Better to starve in the wilderness than stay in Arendelle and be killed,” Elsa mused aloud, though still berating herself for her stupidity. At least water wouldn’t be a problem; she could simply scoop up handfuls of snow and melt them in her mouth. As for shelter, Elsa decided that she would be content with only protection from the wind. She had discovered at a young age that even though she could feel the cold, it never bothered her like it did others. Although there was no way to prove it, Elsa suspected that the strange immunity was a side effect of the ice magic.

As she sat there in the snowy mountains, Elsa thought that, for once, there were benefits in possessing unnatural powers. Those positive thoughts were quickly extinguished; it was the magic’s fault that she was in this predicament. In fact, it was the cause of everything that had ever gone wrong in her life.

In that moment, Elsa hated the magic like she had never before. A fierce inferno of loathing and malice consumed her as she thought of the injustice of it all. She had done nothing to deserve the curse. And indeed, it was a curse—a curse of isolation, pain, unhappiness, and fear.

It didn’t even have the decency to only ruin her life.

Images flashed through Elsa’s mind: her mother’s concerned eyes alight with worry, her brow furrowed in frustrated helplessness as she watched her daughter’s misery; the pain and shock evident in her loving father’s countenance when Elsa recoiled, trying to protect him; last, and most painful of all, was Anna’s face: grief, anguish, sorrow, and torment blended together to make a powerful mixture of endless heartache. Elsa laid her head on her knees, closing her eyes as hot tears made their way down her cheeks. The tortuous pictures cycled through her mental eye again and again, each time bringing fresh longing and guilt.

Elsa’s head shot up, the hair on the nape of her neck prickling ominously. The observer was back. She hadn’t noticed when it left, lost in thought as she was, but now it had returned. Snow slid from the branches of a nearby tree. She leapt to her feet, fear pulsing through her veins. Quickly scanning the area where the sound had originated, she couldn’t see anyone. But someone was there—she was certain of it. At the edge of her vision, a brown spot on the snowy ground caught her attention. Two rolls of bread lay before her, with no footprints or traces of the benefactor in the surrounding snow.

“Hello?” Elsa called, warily glancing about.

The only reply was the breeze rushing through the snow-laden branches. Elsa’s nerves, already tense, stretched to the brink of snapping.

“I know you’re there,” she said, gesturing to the bread as proof.

The unnerving silence continued, punishing in its complete emptiness. Several minutes passed in the oppressive quiet. The sharp snap of a twig shattered the stillness. Elsa spun around, her gaze fixating on the clump of trees where the sound had originated. Confusion began supplanting her anxiety; nothing but snow and trees were in sight, but Elsa was convinced she had seen a flicker of blue as she turned. Was the stress of the past few days manifesting itself in hallucinations?

An alarming thought entered Elsa’s mind, and she quickly picked up the bread and took a bite. A sigh of relief escaped her lips: the rolls were real. However, if they weren’t figments of her imagination, then her mysterious watcher wasn’t one either. 

“Thank you for the food, whoever you are,” Elsa said, uncertainty leading her to begin walking once more.

“No problem,” responded a faint whisper, as quiet and insubstantial as the merest breath of wind. Elsa stopped in her tracks, shock rendering her immobile. Had she just imagined a reply?

“Did you just… say ‘no problem’?” she asked the empty air.

“You—you can hear me?”

“Yes…” Elsa hesitantly replied.

“But how?” questioned the barely audible voice. ”I mean—”

“I have no idea.” A hysterical laugh began forming in Elsa’s throat. She really was losing her mind! Not only was she hearing disembodied voices, but she was holding a conversation with them.

“Can you see me?”

“No,” Elsa answered, relief trickling through her. At least she wasn’t seeing things too… or was she? Chills shot down Elsa’s spine as she remembered the flash of blue she had seen in the corner of her eye after the twig snapped. Was she going to become completely mad, eventually living in an imaginary reality? Elsa was pulled from her thoughts when she realized that the strange voice hadn’t responded to her answer. Perhaps this was a one-time episode triggered by the traumatic circumstances of the past twenty-four hours? Maybe her mind wasn’t slipping at all! Comforted by the thought, Elsa sat down on the snowy ground and began eating the bread. After finishing a roll and most of the second with no imaginary voices whispering in her head, she convinced herself that the whole experience was brought about by hunger and fatigue.

***

Jack closed his eyes, fighting to suppress the bitter pain of crushed hope. She couldn’t see him. Despite holding a conversation with him, he was invisible; just as he had been for the last three-hundred years. He sighed and dropped from the tree he had been perching on, landing on the snow-covered ground. Flying would have been faster, but he didn’t even know where he was supposed to go. Besides, walking would help soothe the cutting ache of disappointment and perhaps bring peace to his mind once more. Jack turned at the sound of a gasp. The young queen was staring, eyes wide with astonishment, at his feet. Crouching down to assure himself that nothing horrific had befallen his appendages, Jack realized that she wasn’t looking at his feet; she was gawking at his footprints in the untouched snow.

_ So she can’t see me, but she  _ **_can_ ** _ see my impact on physical objects. Interesting. _

Using the end of his staff, Jack drew a smiley face in the snow. Something akin to regret filled him as the young woman pressed her hands to her temples and began mumbling “No…” repeatedly.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, unsure what he had done wrong. Instead of reassuring her, however, the apology seemed to make it worse.

_ Oh, great. Just wonderful. _

At a loss of what else to do, Jack’s sarcastic nature got the better of him. “Should I have drawn a frowny face instead? Would  _ that _ have been more helpful?”

She let out a half-hearted chuckle before quietly replying, “Not particularly. It appears I truly am going mad.”

“ _ No _ , you’re not,” Jack replied, a tad offended at the assumption. “I’m quite real.”

“I’m not going to debate my sanity with a voice that is coming from my mind.” She shook her head, before asking, “And if you  _ are _ real, who are you?” A touch of skepticism coloured her voice, as if she didn’t believe he could answer the inquiry.

“The name’s Jack Frost. Renowned winter spirit, mischief maker, snowball fighter extraordinaire, and ruiner of Easter Sundays,” he said with a bow, even though she couldn’t see him.

The young woman’s eyes widened, face completely draining of color. She stiffly nodded, looking into his eyes. Jack’s breath caught in his throat—she was looking  _ at _ him.

She started to stand up, and Jack offered his hand in assistance. Puzzlement and curiosity wrinkled Jack’s brow as Elsa glanced at his outstretched hand, but made no move to take it and hastily regained her feet on her own.

“Thank you,” the young lady said, retreating a few paces. “I’m Q—Elsa. Just Elsa.”

_ Elsa… Her name is Elsa. It suits her. _

Taking note of her hasty correction, Jack remembered his manners and said, “Nice to meet you.”

She inclined her head formally, acknowledging the reply, but suspicion was evident. “Mr. Frost,” Elsa began.

“Jack,” he interrupted, the formality already getting on his nerves.

An awkward pause followed his correction as Elsa’s piercing gaze studied his face. Finally she continued, “I have a question for you, Jack.”

“Shoot,” Jack said as he casually slung his staff on his shoulder.

A look of bewilderment appeared on Elsa’s features. “Excuse me?”

_ Oops. Forgot that I’m in the 16th century here. _

“It means go ahead.”

Regaining her composure, Elsa asked, “Why were you following me?”

_ Great. Now what am I supposed to do, confess I’m stalking her because she has magic? This is awkward… _

“Honestly? I thought I was tracking a moose.”

Elsa’s brow momentarily wrinkled in confusion, but the beginnings of an amused smile soon spread across her face.

_ Wow… _

In his extremely limited time spent around Elsa, Jack had never seen her wearing an expression even resembling happiness. Now that he had, he wished it would never leave. Adding just a small smile completely transformed her demeanor. Elsa had been pretty before, but now she was beautiful. 

“You should do that more often.”

“Do what?” Elsa asked, the echo of happiness still on her face.

“Smile. You look really pretty.”

_ Oh snap, did I say that last part aloud?! I don’t even know her! _

Jack was intrigued when she lowered her head, cheeks slightly pinking. After a moment, however, Elsa looked up, the previous guarded expression sliding into place. “I asked you a question. Why are you here?” she demanded in a voice ringing with authority. “I  _ know _ you were following me. Why?”

_ Confession time. _

Running a hand through his hair with a sigh, Jack reluctantly admitted, “I followed you because I wanted to know more about your magic.”

Elsa instantly recoiled, her hands shooting up as if to guard against him. “Get away from me!”

“ _ Whoa!” _ Jack immediately backed away, sensing that he was mere seconds from becoming a human popsicle. Trying for a placating tone of voice, he said, “Hey, calm down for a moment. I’m not here to hurt you, alright?”

Elsa’s tense posture didn’t even relax an iota; she seemed to be unconvinced. Jack sighed, hoping his next words would breach that barrier. “I mean, look, we’ve been having a nice conversation and I just brought you food. If that isn’t the very definition of polite society, then I don’t know what is.” After letting that sink in for a moment, he added, “Now, could you please put your hands down? I really didn’t want to become an ice cube today.”

Her gaze abruptly dropped to her hands, revulsion and fear overtaking her features. Wordlessly, Elsa stumbled away and started running up the treacherous slope.

***

Elsa bit her lip, fighting against the moisture welling in her eyes. Her hands shook as she propelled her weary legs onward. The strange boy with the silver hair hadn’t made any threatening moves—but she had almost… No one was safe with her around. Even now, she could feel the magic churning within her, heightened by her emotions. It was a raging monster, uncontrollable, seeking to escape.

The boy called out, “Elsa, wait!” She could almost hear Anna’s voice echoing the distant words. Then, as now, she wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop.

“Hey, could you please come back here?”

She ignored the request, her feet sending snow flying.

“Wait!”

Elsa ran faster.

“Would you just hold on a second?! _ ” _ The voice was much closer than Elsa would have thought possible. Glancing behind her, she gasped. The boy was  _ flying! _ Distracted by the spectacle, she failed to notice the icy patch in her path. Her foot slipped, sending her tumbling into the snow.


	8. Questions

Elsa frantically struggled with the folds of velvet that had become tangled around her legs during the fall. Glancing up, she saw the boy had landed nearby, and attacked the fabric with new vigor.

“Elsa, could you please just calm down and listen?”

Finally freeing her legs, she stood, mind whirling. She took a step back, but what good would fleeing do? He could _fly_ . Ruthlessly shoving her curiosity and emotions aside, Elsa decided to hold her ground. She was a queen, even while in exile, and should start acting as such. “What do you want with me—with my _magic?”_ The steely calm she had adopted slipped on the bitter word, but her newly repaired facade held up well otherwise.

The boy, however, was an open book. Every emotion and thought slid across his face: frustration from chasing her, surprise at her halted escape, and simple curiosity. “I told you, I just want to talk.” A rueful smile appeared as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, at least that’s what I _tried_ to tell you. It seems that your feet had other ideas.”

Her lips twitched at his kindly meant jibe, but Elsa quickly squelched the impulse to smile. She couldn’t trust this strange boy who quite literally appeared out of nowhere. She couldn’t trust anyone—not even herself. Elsa quickly hid her bare hand underneath her cape. The boy’s eyes followed the movement, but his only response was to put his shepherd-crook on the ground. Backing away and raising his hands, he repeated, “I just want to talk.”

The earnestness in his expression, along with the laying down of his potential weapon, reassured Elsa. In the very least, she should give the boy a chance to speak in exchange for his kindness of giving her food. “Very well. I’m listening.”

“Why did you pretend you’re not the queen?”

Elsa blinked, stifling her surprise and alarm. Aiming for a casual demeanor, she asked, “What makes you think I’m the queen?”

The boy rolled his eyes, gesturing toward her as a whole. “Uh, I don’t know: fancy dress, royal attitude, a golden crown-thingamajiggy making a public debut in your hair…”

Elsa felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed at how easily he had seen through her foolish ruse.

“Why aren’t you wearing shoes? I wouldn’t be surprised if you lose your toes to frostbite,” she countered, trying to buy herself some time—though she realized she did want to know the answer. 

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “I’ll go first if that’ll make you feel better. I don’t wear shoes ‘cause I don’t like them. Never have.”

“And the reason your feet don’t freeze and fall off?” she probed.

“Hey, I answered your first question. Now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know I was the queen,” she replied smartly.

“Okay, that one was a gimmie,” the boy—Jack—said, shaking his head with a grin.

Not for the first time, Elsa was puzzled by his odd manner of speaking. She supposed it went along with his unusual garb: a blue, hooded shirt unlike anything she had seen before.

Continuing, Jack asked, “Let’s put it this way: why didn’t you want me to know?”

“I thought you were supposed to ask only one question,” she said, evading his query.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Like you’re following the rules so well.”

Elsa had the grace to look chagrined, but it only lasted for a moment before he smirked and said, “But rules were made to be broken, after all.”

She stared at him—his words were the exact antithesis of her life. To be a royal was to be restricted, to always abide by the precedents for conduct, appearance, thought, and expression laid down generations ago. And her powers… They added a new layer of complexity to the equation, one filled with secrecy and isolation. Rules dominated everyone in society no matter what station they were at, from a queen to the lowliest beggar. Jack’s words defied the very fabric of reality—didn’t they?

***

An awkward silence filled the space where Elsa’s response should have been.

“Okaay, it’s your turn.” His words seemed to snap her out of the trance his flippant comment had somehow induced. 

“I already asked my question.”

“Ah, so you did,” he said, grabbing his staff from the snow and slinging it over his shoulder. “Isn’t the answer obvious?”

“If it were, would I have asked the question?” The trace of exasperation in her voice brought a smile to Jack’s face. 

“Good point. Still, I think you’re bright enough to answer it on your own,” he baited with a grin.

“You set the terms of our agreement, now follow them,” Elsa said, folding her arms.

He finally relented, hinting, “It’s the same reason I can fly.”

“Magic?” 

“Eh, close enough.” Jack shrugged. “Being a winter spirit has its perks, like these little piggies not falling off from the cold,” he said, gesturing to his feet.

Elsa’s eyebrows rose. “You’re a winter spirit?” Her features were a mixture of wonder and wariness, as if she wasn’t exactly sure how to react.

“I already mentioned it, didn’t I? Of course I’m a winter spirit; how else would you explain this?” Summoning a bit of magic, he let the snowflake dance through his fingers before releasing it to drift along with the wind.

Elsa stared at him like he had grown three heads.

***

Elsa’s mind whirled, struggling to process the ramifications. Jack was a winter spirit—who had ice powers—which meant… _she wasn’t alone_ . Every fundamental piece of her life shifted at the thought. Someone else existed who wouldn’t fear the magic, who wouldn’t fear _her_. Elsa could barely fathom it, yet the proof was right in front of her.

“You…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to formulate her thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“How do you do that? Use your magic so comfortably, I mean.” Elsa clasped her hands at her waist, doubt besieging her. Should she continue and voice the question that would mark her as a monster?

“Ummm…” Jack paused, considering how to answer. “Well, I’ve never really thought about it that much. It kinda just happens.”

Well, at least _that_ was something they had in common. Gathering her resolve, Elsa finally asked, “Aren’t you ever afraid that you might hurt someone? With your powers?” She wrung her hands as she awaited Jack’s response.

“Not really. I mean, sure an iceball to the face can hurt someone.” He comically mimed getting struck and falling to the ground. Standing and brushing himself off, Jack continued, “But that usually doesn’t happen. I mostly just use my powers to make snow days so the kids can have fun.”

“A—and you don’t think it’s dangerous?” It was risky to continue this line of questioning, particularly when it was becoming evident that Jack didn’t share her views, but she had to know for sure.

“Well, I guess blizzards could be dangerous if you get stuck outside in them, but I try not to let that happen. Why?” His expressive silver-blue eyes sharpened with sudden insight. “Do _you_ think your magic is dangerous?”

“I…” Any answer that she might have given was stuck in her throat. If she denied it, then she would be a liar as well as a freak. Jack was still waiting, so she finally broke the incriminating silence in favour of a vague reply. “I guess magic _could_ be dangerous if it wasn’t properly controlled.”

_Like me—like my powers. They were right to fear me; I’m dangerous. Dangerous and deadly._

“Aren’t most things dangerous if they’re out of control?”

Elsa bit her lip. “I suppose…”

“Well, the same rule applies here: magic _can_ be dangerous. I’ve had to use it to defend myself several times. But that doesn’t mean magic _is_ dangerous. Everyone who has special powers was given them for a reason.”

Elsa’s heart leapt; the answer to the question that had plagued her since birth might finally be within reach. “Do you know why I have powers?”

“That’s for you to find out on your own,” Jack replied, deflating her hope. Leaning slightly forward, he asked “How did you get your magic?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, hating that she didn’t have a better response. “My parents said I was born with it.”

His eyes widened the smallest fraction, but the casual air that accompanied Jack remained in place, making her wonder if she had imagined it.

***

 _Hang on a minute, a mortal_ **_born_ ** _with ice powers? It’s weird enough that she’s a regular human with magic, but now I have no idea why she even has it. If she was born with powers, then that means she didn’t do something to get chosen by the Moon._

Casting a quick glance toward the sky, Jack decided to ponder it later. In the meantime, the atmosphere had grown far too heavy for his liking. “Hey, come here,” he said, holding out his hand for inspection, the fingers curled around something resting in his palm. “I wanna show you something.”

“Okay…” Elsa stepped forward, her expression a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

“Closer. It’s pretty hard to see.” Jack waited until she was only a pace or two away, looking at his closed hand. “There, that’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, suppressing a smile.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Are you sure? You gotta really want it.”

Elsa looked up in mild exasperation. “Yes, I’m sure. Otherwise I wouldn’t have come ov—”

Jack opened his hand, releasing a harmless poof of snowflakes directly in Elsa’s face. He cracked up at her shocked expression, but his laughter was quickly squelched by the stricken look on Elsa’s pale face as she stumbled backwards. It was like someone had punched her in the gut, ripping away all happiness or hope and leaving a skeletal shell in its place.

_What did I do wrong? It was only a little bit of snow…_

Unsure what to do, Jack approached, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder _._

“Hey, Elsa?”

She didn’t respond. Her eyes drifted closed, and for all intents and purposes she was a stiff statue.

“I’m sorry.”

***

Elsa’s mind reeled, frantically assessing her health as she waited for the darkness. Anna had instantly fallen unconscious when she was hit, but perhaps it took longer for adults. Regardless, she was certain no one could survive a direct burst of magic at such close range. A small corner of Elsa’s mind dimly recognized the irony of being killed by a power so similar to her own. Looking at Jack’s furrowed brow in what was sure to be her final moments, a small bloom of compassion unfolded. He most likely hadn’t known that ice magic was fatal to non-spirits. Even as she had the thought, Jack reached out, resting his hand on her shoulder before he apologized. Closing her eyes, Elsa reveled in the gentle pressure of his palm and fingers; it was the first physical contact she’d had in years. Until now, she hadn’t consciously realized how much she missed human touch. At least her final moments were pleasant.

After an eternity of waiting for the end, Elsa slowly opened her eyes. Jack face was much closer than expected. She abruptly stepped backward, letting his hand slide off her shoulder. Immediately, she felt the absence of his touch: a cold, familiar emptiness replaced the tranquil comfort of a moment before. A pang of regret shot through her at the lost physical contact, but she swiftly shoved the feelings aside.

“Why aren’t I comatose? Why am I still here?!” The words came out sharper than she had intended, but Elsa needed to know why she hadn’t yet succumbed to the fate Anna had escaped years ago—

 _The fate that a monster like you deserves,_ her mind whispered.

“Wha…?” Jack was clearly caught off guard, his words tumbling over themselves in their haste to escape. “Comatose? Like, Sleeping Beauty fall-to-the-ground- unconscious? Why would that happen? Do you have a medical condition or something?” He stepped closer, concern creasing his brow as he searched her face for signs of ill health.

“Your magic, it—I…” Elsa fought off the memories flooding her mind, stealing her breath, before finally choking out, “I was hit in the head.”

Jack’s frown deepened as he continued to scrutinize her. “Yeah, but it was only a couple of snowflakes. How is that dangerous?”

_Dangerous._

The word echoed in her pounding skull, drowning out the sound of her ragged breathing. Thousands of daggers pierced her mind, resisting her futile efforts to keep them at bay. Air refused to flow—she was suffocating.

“M—my sister…” was all Elsa managed to gasp before she was drowning, drowning in a memory, drowning in a sea of ice and dark. Anna’s fiery hair broke the bleakness—before it started turning white. Everything was cold. She was alone in the black of midnight. No one could help her. It was her fault. She was _dangerous—_

_She was a monster._

Muffled words pierced the darkness, their urgency drawing her toward the surface. “Elsa? Elsa! Come on, look at me! Elsa?!”

She broke through, desperately hauling in a lungful of air. Jack’s face swam into focus.

***

Elsa was coming back to him. Jack could see it in the way clarity returned to her gaze, the darkness trapped within vanishing. When she had started to hyperventilate, alarm bells began ringing. Had he actually harmed her? His adrenaline levels just about shot through the roof after she began to tremble. It was all he could do to remain level-headed and try to reach her—but now she was coming to, albeit slowly.

“You’re okay, just take it easy. Everything will be fine.” He wasn’t sure if the murmured reasurrances were for his benefit or hers, but either way, they seemed to be working.

“I can’t…breathe…” Elsa’s words were oddly strangled, her bright blue eyes wide with fear, but she wasn’t hyperventilating anymore.

“Hey, just look at me. Take deep breaths and calm down, okay? You’re fine,” Jack soothed, reaching out to further reassure her.

Elsa recoiled, the calm that had been seeping into her countenance vanishing. “Don’t touch me!”

“Okay!” Surprised, Jack raised his arms in a gesture of peace. “I get it, no touchie,” he said as he jammed his hands into his hoodie pocket, thoroughly rebuffed.

Several moments passed in silence as Elsa slowly recovered. “I’m sorry. You were only trying to help. I… can’t be touched.”

Putting his wounded ego aside, he probed, “But earlier, when I was apologizing, you were fine with it.”

“If you recall, I thought I was dying at the time,” she wryly replied.

_Touché._

Elsa sighed, confessing, “I can’t touch anyone because my powers are out of control.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath before plowing forward. “I leave anything I touch covered in ice. The gloves help, but the magic just keeps getting stronger! I can’t be near anyone because… I don’t want to hurt them.” Her voice broke, eyes suspiciously moist as she pleaded, “Can you help? Please, I’ll do anything.”

“I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll give it my best shot.” A stray thought sprang into his mind and out of his mouth before he could reconsider. “Is this why you’re running away?”

Elsa wrung her hands, and Jack felt guilty for causing her further distress. However, he didn’t take back the question, as his curiosity had reached a feverish high.

“I—it’s…complicated,” she finally answered, looking down.

With a mental sigh, Jack suppressed the rest of his questions, respecting her privacy. But one last problem had to be addressed before he could drop the subject entirely. “Are you ever going back?”

Her face briefly contorted with an indescribable mix of emotions, before it was replaced with a calm mask. “…No.” Pain laced her voice as she added, “I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” There was a big difference between those two words. As he had watched lives grow and fall apart, Jack realized how often those words were used interchangeably—and how often the real meaning was changed because of it.

Elsa opened her mouth, words on the tip of her tongue, unsaid. She swallowed them. A long moment passed before she quietly said, “Both. I can’t go back, and…” She pressed her lips together, her eyes locking with his. “…A-and I won’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” The hushed words were miserable reparation for what she had lost, but they were all he could do.

Elsa looked downwards, folding her arms, but not before he saw a suspicious glimmer enter her eyes. “It wasn’t your doing.”

Following a sense of intuition he had learned over the years not to ignore, Jack voiced the thought, “It wasn’t yours either.”

She turned away and began walking, remaining silent as she raised her hand to brush some hair—or tears—from her face. He caught up in a grasshopper-like gliding hop, landing just a few paces behind and to the side of Elsa, giving her some space. 

Elsa looked back over her shoulder. “You don’t need to lurk behind me,” she said, a small smile on her lips in spite of the sorrow in her eyes.

Jack blinked, thrown off-balance by the shift. Given what Elsa had told him about her circumstances, he had expected her to remain morose for some time. The fact that she was able to recover so quickly and move on was a testament to her strength of character. 

Eagerly, Jack closed the remaining distance, glad for the company. “So where are we going?” he asked as Elsa continued to trek forwards through the snow. 

“I’m not exactly sure…” she admitted with a wisp of a laugh.

Jack stopped walking. “Wait, so you’ve just been wandering through the mountains, alone, with no idea where you’re going?”

“Not exactly… I’ve been heading north, to the top of this mountain,” she said, gesturing to the peak before them.

Jack realized with a start that they were on the mountain he had observed after crash-landing in the fjord. Turning around, he could just make out the shine of water in the distance. They were well above the tree line now, surrounded by snow-covered mountaintops.

Looking back at Elsa, he asked, “So what are you planning to do when you get there? Live on the top of the mountain like some snow queen?” Jack jokingly suggested.

***

He had a point. What _did_ she plan on doing when she got to the top of the mountain? So far, her goal had just been a device to keep her moving forward, driving her away from Arendelle, further into this icy oblivion. Now that she was staring reality in the face, Elsa really wasn’t sure what she’d thought would happen when she reached the mountain’s peak.

“I don’t know what I’ll do next. I haven’t really thought about it; this trip wasn’t exactly preplanned.”

“Well, you better get planning,” Jack said. “At this rate, we’ll be there soon.”

A warm swell of gratitude arose at his use of the word “we’ll”. She wasn’t sure exactly how or why Jack had decided to become her traveling companion, but having experienced the alternative of being completely alone, she welcomed his amiable company.

Her stomach growled, breaking the silence that had fallen. Laughing, Jack commented, “I guess we should find you some food. Do you know if there’s a village or something nearby?”

Elsa wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but mentally reviewing maps she’d previously studied, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference if they knew their precise location. Frowning thoughtfully, she replied, “Umm, I don’t think so. We’re pretty far from most of Arendelle’s populated areas, and the mountain terrain is extremely inhospitable. Any permanent settlements would be small, well hidden, and unable to support two extra mouths to feed.”

Slinging his shepherd's crook over his shoulder, Jack said, “Well, technically, they’d only need to support one.”

“What?” Was Jack going to leave her so soon?

“Winter _spirit_ , remember?” He prompted, waving a hand in front of her face. “I don’t need to eat food. Although, it can be extremely delicious.”

Elsa’s stomach seconded his statement with another gurgle. Hiding her embarrassment with a laugh, she asked, “So how do you propose we acquire some food?”

“Simple,” he said, rising into the air. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t move, or it’ll be hard for me to find you.”

“Jack—”

But he was already gone, flying away in the direction they had come. Elsa sighed, sitting down in the snow. At this point, there was nothing she could do but blindly trust him and wait, so she might as well be comfortable. Hugging her knees up to her chest, Elsa watched as the bright summer sun finally started descending toward the horizon.

***

Jack basked in the freedom of flying through the sky, making unnecessary loops and turns of pure exhilaration. The wind playfully nipped at his clothing and hair, invigoratingly chilling his exposed skin as it rushed by. After the initial burst of exuberance at taking to the air once more, Jack remembered his mission.

“Oh, right. I’m supposed to be fetching food for Elsa.”

Correcting his wayward course, Jack made his way back toward the town they had come from. Elsa was depending on him, perhaps quite literally placing her life in his hands. His new responsibility of being a provider was weighty, but not overly so. The way he figured, once Elsa learned to control her magic, she could come back to her home.

_Home…_

The word still sent a pinch of longing shooting through his heavy heart. Jack thought that feeling had vanished when he was accepted as a Guardian, but now it was painfully evident that was not the case. He rubbed at his chest to get rid of the stubborn, uncooperative emotions.

_Just live in the moment. Enjoy the now, and have fun._

Jack soared to the south, losing himself once more in the joy of flight. Keeping in mind the seriousness of his mission, he kept the frolicking to a minimum… sort of. The town, once a blur toward the horizon, was rapidly approaching. But instead of descending, he flew up, higher and higher until the clouds blocked his view of the ground far below. A grin lit up Jack’s face as he paused, hovering in the air.

Then he plunged.

Jack whooped as the wind roared in his ears, a ravenous wolf tearing at his face and clothing. An incredible rush of electrifying emotions rammed through his skull as he hurled himself towards the earth.

_This is what it means to be alive._

He used his powers to go even faster, a human bullet headed straight toward the town. His ears popped as he recklessly twisted into a spin, corkscrewing down headfirst.

“YAAHOOO!”

At the last possible second, Jack pulled up, stumbling slightly on the cobblestones as he landed harder than he had meant to. Unlike his previous visit, fraught with nervous tension, he had some time to look around and really enjoy the place. The snow-covered town wasn’t all that different from the village he grew up in. Sure, it was larger, and the architecture and clothing weren’t quite the same, but the same sense of community and peace was present. Unfortunately, Elsa’s surprise summer snowstorm seemed to be putting a bit of a damper on the latter. A group of villagers had gathered in the square despite the cold, frowns growing as they discussed the situation.

“This snowfall ain’t natural!” a young man declared, “We’ve never had snow this late in the season before.”

A grey-haired matron on the edge of the group spoke up. “Nonsense. When I was a child, one summer a storm blew through much like this one. T’was the first time my younger brother was old enough to join the rest of us while we played in the snow,” she said, smiling at the memory.

(Jack’s heart goes yay)

“Be that as it may, I’m inclined to agree with Lars.” The well-dressed young lady continued, “This weather certainly is unusual, particularly for late July.”

A burly, middle-aged man stroked his whiskers before replying, “Unusual, mayhap. But not impossible or even ‘unnatural’. What proof do you have?”

“I, uh…” The young man, Lars, fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, struggling to reply. However, before he could turn completely crimson from embarrassment, a mother holding the hand of a little girl stepped in.

“The proof has already been given, Fredrik. If you won’t believe this midsummer snowfall is unnatural, then what about freezing a fountain with a mere touch? Because that’s what the queen did!”

_Interesting, I wonder what else Elsa can do?_

The child twisted back and forth, sending her braids swinging as she chirped, “I seen it too! The pretty lady in a cape frozed the water!”

Confidence restored, Lars smacked his fist into the other hand. “We have to do something about this!”

“And what do you propose we do?” inquired the elderly lady.

“We should stop it!” Another man spoke up, “The crops won’t be able to last much longer.”

Others in the group voiced their assent, and Jack began to worry.

_Scared and hungry people can do terrible things. Elsa needs to get her powers under control soon!_

Amidst the growing discontent, a lone voice of reason called out, “How would you stop it? Change the weather? When last I checked, you didn’t have the power of the gods.”

A few snickers pierced the silence that fell, and the villagers as one looked toward the instigator of the trouble: Lars. Faced with the multitude of (adj) stares, his bravado deflated, shrinking into a withered husk.

_Being called out like that must be humiliating._

Jack felt bad for the young man, who was now kicking at the snow wedged in the cobblestones. “I just thought we should do something,” Lars mumbled.

“Aye, lad,” the bearded man—Fredrik—said, putting a hand on Lars’ shoulder. “We’re all worried. But there’s naught to be done but wait.” Looking around at the crowd that had gathered, he declared, “And back to your business, all of you! There’s work to be done.”

Suitably chastened, the villagers began to disperse, and Jack heaved a silent sigh of relief. 

_Now, where do I find food…?_


	9. Chapter 9

Elsa shifted positions once again, her anxiety growing with every minute that passed. The sun was below the horizon now, painting the clouds shades of pink and gold. However majestic, the sight did nothing to distract her; all too soon, that beauty would be gone, and darkness would arrive. How was Jack going to be able to find her then?

“Calm down, Jack’s going to be back soon.”

_Or would he?_

She pulled her cloak closer, warding off the chill that came with that thought. Unable to bear sitting idly any longer, Elsa stood up and paced in a circle, packing down the snow. Occasionally she lost her shoe when it got caught in the deep snow, but she was so preoccupied with searching for Jack’s return that she usually didn’t notice until a few steps later. After retrieving a stray shoe for the fourth time, Elsa considered sitting back down to wait. Still, her stockings were already wet, and at least this gave her something to do. One can only sit alone for so long before starting to lose their mind, a fact Elsa knew all too well.

The last light of the sun was dying in the west when a shadow flitted across the rapidly darkening sky. Heart leaping in her chest, Elsa squinted at the silhouette, trying to track the movement. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Crestfallen, she was trying to find another way to distract herself when a voice spoke from behind.

“Did you miss me?”

Elsa spun around, letting out a cry of alarm.

Jack was leaning forward on his staff, an adorable smile on his face. Elsa blinked. Adorable? Where had that thought come from? Her confusion was quickly swept aside by a wave of relief. "I was scared you wouldn't come back."

"Now why would I desert a damsel in distress?" he teased, drawing a smile from her lips. "Actually, it’s getting so dark that if it weren’t for your cape and that circle in the snow I would’ve flown right past," he confessed, gesturing to the items in question before rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh." How does one tactfully reply to that? "Were you able to find some food?"

"Your Majesty, would I, your knight in shining armor, return without completing my mission?" Jack asked with a smile.

Unsure how to respond, she ventured, "I suppose not.”

"You got it." He winked. "And now I present... your dinner." He pulled a sack from behind his back, presenting it with a flourish and a bow before letting it drop on the ground. A few rolls of bread spilled out of the open top, and Elsa laughed at the look of chagrin on Jack's face.

"Hey, nobody's perfect," he playfully defended himself with a self-deprecating shrug.

“It’s fine, I’ve always liked a little snow on my bread,” she said, picking one up and sprinkling more snow on top for good measure. Raising an eyebrow to meet Jack’s questioning look, Elsa put the roll to her lips, taking a bite. “Hmm? It’s actually quite good,” she mumbled through a mouthful of bread, her surprise overriding good manners. Although she had partaken of the snow-dusted roll in jest, the cold flakes provided a pleasing counterpoint to the dense texture, in addition to providing some much-needed moisture.

“Really? Let me try,” Jack said, reaching for the roll in Elsa’s hand.

“Hey!” She pulled the bread away. “This is my dinner, remember?”

“And who brought you that dinner?” he countered, persisting in his attempts to make off with her food.

“You said it yourself, you don’t need to eat,” she pointed out, hiding the roll behind her back.

Jack wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Twerp,” he muttered as he tried to reach around her. 

Elsa abandoned all efforts to preserve her dignity, focusing instead on preserving her dinner. “Besides, you should have grabbed some food for yourself while you were out getting some. Goodness knows you took long enough,” she teased, sidestepping another lunge from Jack.

“Well, excuse me for failing to meet your royal expectations, princess,” he replied with a grin and another swipe at the snow-sprinkled roll.

“It’s _queen_ ,” she corrected, stepping back once more, “And I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t call me that.”

“Why?” he asked, head tilting to the side, his attention shifting away from the bread in her hand.

She bit her lip. “I’d rather not say it aloud. It sounds ridiculous.”

“Elsa, if that’s how you feel, then there’s nothing ridiculous about it. If you really don’t want to say, then I get it. But I want to understand.” Jack’s voice was quiet, the laughing smile of moments before changing into an earnest look of sincerity. 

He already knew about her powers, so what additional harm could come if she answered this question? 

“My entire life, I’ve been surrounded by expectations.” Elsa took a deep breath before plowing forward. “No matter what I feel, I’m supposed to act a certain way and do certain things. Arendelle deserves the perfect Crown Princess; more importantly, it can’t afford anything less,” she explained, wringing her hands.

“Being a ruler means setting an example, putting the people and the kingdom before everything else, especially your own needs and desires. Personal weakness is a liability, one that puts everyone at risk.” She could feel her father’s disappointment as she echoed his words. “I must strive to act with composure and assurance at all times, regardless of circumstance. To not do so would cause a catastrophe.” Elsa winced, remembering that she had done just that. 

“Ultimately, it meant living a lie—pretending to be something I’m not…” She sighed. “All my life, I’ve been ‘Princess Elsa’; I just want someone to know the real me,” she finished softly.

Jack nodded in understanding, sympathetic to her plight. But after a moment, his expression quickly shifted to one of mischief. “So is the real you someone who would deny my poor belly a mere morsel of bread?”

Elsa arched an eyebrow. “You’re shameless, and I highly doubt you’ll starve to death if I eat this. If you really are that desperate, I’m sure there’s more in the bag,” she pointed out with a smile. A worrisome thought occurred as soon as the words left her mouth: “There is more, isn’t there?”

“Of course,” he replied, grabbing the few rolls still on the snowy ground and placing them in the sack before holding it out for inspection. In addition to more bread, the bag contained a plentiful amount of dried fruit, cheese, and what she identified as strips of smoked fish and salted meat.

“Impressive.” Jack had managed to collect enough provisions to last her at least a week by her estimation, even longer if she was careful—and could keep Jack from eating it all. “Put that back,” she scolded.

“But you said I could eat what’s in the bag,” he pointed out with a smirk, completely unrepentant, though he did obey. “If you won’t let me have that, then I guess I’ll return to my original plan.”

Elsa watched with growing apprehension as he set the sack down; unlike the previous time, Jack seemed all business as he eyed the bread in her hand. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said, putting on a show of cool confidence.

“Oh, I dare.”

Taken aback by the wicked gleam in Jack’s eyes, she held the coveted roll high above her head in an attempt to deter him. While it would have been more effective if she was taller (for they were roughly the same height), she at least wasn’t going to make it easy—or so she thought.

Jack jumped, flipping forward and sailing over her head, plucking the bread from her fingers. Elsa turned around just in time to see him execute another rotation before landing neatly on the ground, facing her.

“I win!” He took a huge bite of the roll to prove it. Jack chewed thoughtfully, finally mumbling, “It needs more snow.” 

“You cheated!” she accused, laughing. The last time she had felt so happy and free was ages ago while playing with Anna. Her laughter vanished, along with her smile.

Jack noticed immediately. “Elsa, you can have it,” he said, offering the sad, soggy remnant of bread.

The sweet gesture brought a smile to her lips, however minute. “No, it’s alright,” she assured him. “You earned it. I was just remembering my sister.”

“Okay,” he said, flicking his fingers to coat the half-gone roll in a fresh layer of snow before popping it in his mouth. Jack’s use of his powers was so casual, so comfortable, the sight filled Elsa with astonishment. She almost didn’t catch it when he swallowed and asked, “Were you two close?”

“We _were_. But now…” She trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

“It’s okay, I get it,” Jack said, brushing his hands off on his... 

“What do you call that particular article of clothing?” Elsa inquired, gesturing towards his shirt. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

***

_Whoa, topic change detected. Obviously she doesn’t want to talk about her sister right now._

Deciding to go along with it, Jack replied, “Oh, this? It’s called a hoodie, or a hooded sweatshirt.”

Elsa’s nose wrinkled at the latter, causing him to chuckle. “A sweat-shirt? Is it called that because people wear it when they work?”

“Well, that’s sorta how it started out, but now everybody wears them where I come from; they’re warm and comfy. Most people just stick with the shorter name and call them hoodies.”

“Hmm, a _hoodie,_ ” Elsa carefully enunciated, trying out the word.

“Well done, my faithful pupil,” Jack replied, adopting the voice and mannerisms of a stuffy professor. “We’ll make a scholar of you yet.”

Elsa laughed, just like he’d hoped she would. She had seen so much heartache in life; she deserved to smile, to laugh, to truly live life the way it was meant to be lived: happily. In that moment, Jack made a silent vow:

_I’ll do whatever I can to bring her joy._

“Hey, Elsa, while I’m busy teaching you, why don’t we work on that magic of yours?”

She bit her lip, eyes widening as she covered her ungloved hand with her cape. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked, almost, but not quite hiding the quaver in her voice.

“Well, you gotta start sometime, why not now? Like you said, there’s nothing around here for miles, so what’s the worst that could happen?”

She flinched, looking at her hands, but her gaze was focused on something beyond them, something visible only to her. The mountain breeze grew stronger, ruffling his hair, and snowflakes began drifting down.

“Elsa, if you don’t learn to control it, it’s going to control you. Besides, if there’s anybody in the world that can teach you about ice and snow, it’s me,” he pointed out with a smile. “I know you can do it. Do you trust me?” He hoped the answer was yes.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “But what if I hurt you?”

***

“If there’s anybody in the world that can teach you about ice and snow, it’s me. I know you can do it,” Jack assured her. “Do you trust me?”

Elsa appreciated his confidence, however misguided. Surprisingly, she _did_ trust him; that wasn’t the problem—she couldn’t trust herself.

“But what if I hurt you?” 

“I might not be of the same caliber as Superman, but I think I’m robust enough to handle a bit of snow,” Jack replied with a shrug and a smirk, brushing off the flakes that had landed on his shoulders. “Besides, I’ve got the same magic as you, right? So even if something does happen, I’ll be fine.”

“But… Can we talk about this tomorrow? It’s getting late,” she pointed out. The sun had long since set; the only reason she could still see was the full moon glowing brightly overhead.

“Are you tired?” he replied, “Do you need to sleep?” Something about his tone of voice indicated that Jack knew she was trying to put it off, but there was a genuine element of concern as he waited for her response.

Elsa sighed, admitting, “Not really, I couldn’t sleep if I tried.” Still, as she looked at Jack, he seemed disproportionately perky for the lateness of the hour. “What about you? Is not needing sleep another one of those winter spirit things?”

***

“What about you? Is not needing sleep another one of those winter spirit things?” Elsa asked.

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug. “It makes for some pretty fun times, and I can get a lot more done than the average joe. Still, having all that extra time isn’t always a good thing.” More often than not, it had only increased his loneliness. “I kinda wish…”

_Nah, there’s no point in wishing for the impossible._

“Wish what?” she gently prodded.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Jack?” 

“Sometimes, I wish that I could sleep.” He turned away, starting to walk up the mountain so she couldn’t see his expression. “It sounds kinda lame, especially coming from a guy who literally flies around bringing fun to children. I need to be awake most of the time to do my job, so I guess not being able to sleep is a good thing. But it wouldn’t hurt to catch some shut-eye every now and then,” he said, feigning nonchalance.

“That must be difficult.”

Jack glanced over at Elsa, eyebrows raising.

“I use sleep as an escape,” she confessed, averting her face. “Although the hours that pass by while sleeping only feel like a moment, it’s still a moment of respite where I don’t need to worry about everything else in my life. It helps me to clear my mind and put things in perspective. To not have that break…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I could live like that.”

_Well, that’s not a response I expected._

“Wow, that’s… very empathetic of you. What I miss most, actually, are the dreams.”

“You were able to sleep at one point?” 

He slowed to a stop, meeting Elsa’s inquisitive stare. “Let’s just say I wasn’t always the winter spirit and leave it at that.” Although he was thankful for his recovered memories, the unanswered questions surrounding them were still a sore spot. “I miss dreaming because of the sense of possibility it brings. In a dream, you’re free to do anything or be anyone, regardless of consequences or circumstances. You can revisit old memories and relive them like you’re seeing it for the first time. You can change reality to suit your desires. Almost every dream is new and different, and those that repeat themselves can become like old friends.”

“Not every dream is as wonderful as that, Jack,” she replied with a slight shudder.

“Yeah, I know.” He knew more about nightmares than she could imagine. “But the bad ones make you appreciate the good ones. Even the really weird ones can be good for a laugh or two,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve had Sandy—a spirit like me—knock me out with his dreamsand a time or two, but it never lasts.” As he remembered the last time he’d seen Sandy tranquilize a Guardian with his powers—the delightful fiasco in Jamie’s bedroom—a grin spread across his face. He also had an idea.

“Hey, Elsa,” he said, hiding a hand behind his back. “Catch!”

***

Elsa gasped in shock as white powder exploded all over the front of her teal ballgown. “Jack!” she exclaimed, before letting a small giggle escape. Another snowball flew across the air, just barely hitting Elsa’s shoulder despite her attempt to sidestep the attack.

“You’re welcome to retaliate,” he said, winking. 

When she hesitated to act on the invitation, Jack brandished another missile with a wicked smile. “Okay, okay!” She bent down, scooping snow into her hand and lobbing it at him.

“You missed!” he exclaimed, incredulous at her half-hearted throw. “How could you miss? I’m right in front of you!” 

Jack’s gentle teasing brought a smile to her face. It would be okay to enjoy herself, just this once, wouldn’t it? Abandoning all decorum, Elsa quickly formed another snowball and launched it at her target.

“A solid hit, milady,” he declared, brushing off his hoodie. “But it will take more than a single blow to win the war!”

With that declaration, the snowball fight began in earnest.


	10. Battle

Laughter rang out as countless missiles flew through the air, coating both combatants in glittering flakes. It quickly became evident who had the upper hand.

“You’re cheating!” Elsa exclaimed, calling him on it. “Using your powers to make snowballs gives you an unfair advantage.”

“If it’s such a problem, you could do it too,” he pointed out, ducking under the latest attack.

“Jack.” Though she was still smiling, her soft voice held an edge to it that he hadn’t heard since their earliest conversations.

Jack took the hint and let the subject drop, not wanting to spoil this moment of fun for Elsa. For now, he would focus on enjoying himself and making her happy. He stopped using his magic to make snowballs, though he was still the more adept of the two at reloading. It stung his pride a little as the self-proclaimed ‘Snowball Warrior’ to let her score a few more hits than strictly necessary. But as the battle progressed, Elsa’s swiftness and accuracy improved; Jack found himself dodging her volleys in earnest.

“I surrender!” he said, raising his arms in a gesture of truce. “Have mercy!”

Elsa laughed, letting her newest weapons fall to the ground. “You were the one who started it.”

“Yeah? I’m the one who finished it too,” he quipped.

Her smile spread into a grin. “Only because you were worried that I was going to finish  _ you _ .”

Jack chuckled. 

_ At this rate, I’ll need to make some ice for that burn. _

Changing the thought to a form Elsa would understand, he said, “It seems that I’ve been bested, in more ways than one.”

_ Should I try again? _

Deciding to go for it, Jack added, “There’s a part of the snowball fight that we still need to finish, though.”

“What do you mean?” Elsa asked.

“Remember the part where we talked about using your powers?” he prodded.

Elsa folded her arms. “Jack, I really don’t feel comfortable—”

He held up a hand to pause her objection. “Just hear me out, okay? I think I know how to help you. You want to learn how to control your magic, right?”

She slowly nodded, her eyes filling with cautious hope.

“The only way to get better at something is to practice. So you need to practice controlling it.”

Elsa threw her hands up in the air. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” she asked. “Jack, I’ve been trying to control it for  _ years _ . I already told you;  _ it doesn’t work. _ ” Her voice broke. “I can’t do it.” She folded her arms, casting her gaze to the ground.

“You  _ can _ do it, Elsa,” he patiently encouraged. “But you need to be willing to try. Magic is a tool. You get better at controlling it by using it, not by hiding from it.” 

Elsa shook her head. “Jack, you don’t understand.”

He stepped closer, waiting for her ice blue eyes to meet his own. When they did, he simply said, “Then help me to understand.”

“I…” For a moment, Elsa’s confident demeanor slipped. She bit her lip, looking wary, timid—vulnerable. Her gaze probed his, searching for… something. Sensing that one wrong move would send up walls—or worse, send her fleeing—Jack held perfectly still, waiting for her to make a decision. Elsa took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. 

His reply was just as soft: “What are you afraid of?”

“My magic.” She closed her eyes, looking like she had confessed a terrible crime. 

_ So that’s why... _

“Why do puppies chase their tails?” he asked.

Elsa’s eyes flew open in surprise. “What?” 

He smiled. “I promise there’s a method to my madness. Do you know why they chase their tails?”

“Because it’s fun?” she guessed.

“That could be part of it. When they’re young, dogs don’t always realize that their tail is part of them. To them it’s a strange, foreign object. But even then, they run  _ towards _ it, not away from it.”

He waited for the analogy to sink in before he continued, “Elsa, your magic is part of you. Maybe it’s a part that you’re not comfortable with, but that doesn’t change what it is. You won’t be happy until you learn to accept your powers. I think both you and me can learn a lesson from those adorable balls of fluff and just go for it, exploring who we are without fear.”

“Isn’t there another way to do this?” Elsa asked. “One that doesn’t involve using my powers?”

Jack ran a hand through his hair as he considered his next course of action. He’d never faced such persistent hesitation and reluctance. Usually by his second or third try, they’d already caved. Still, he was never one to give up easily.

“I get that you’re scared. Trying something new is always a little scary,” he pointed out. “But it’s not going to get any easier. The longer you wait, hoping some miracle will solve the problem, the harder it’s gonna get. Don’t you want to control your magic?” he asked, hoping the carrot he offered would help her move forward.

“So now we’re talking about what  _ I _ want? I never wanted to have magic in the first place!” Elsa cried out. “In fact, I want nothing to do with it!” The resentment blazing in her eyes quickly turned into alarm as she tucked her ungloved hand beneath her cape. Before he could ask about the change, however, the passionate emotions vanished behind a stilted mask. “My powers only cause pain and misery,” she finished coldly.

Jack sighed, growing frustrated. “Look, I’m doing my best to help, but right now I can’t do anything unless you listen to me and use your magic. Earlier, when you asked me to help, you said you’d do anything. Did you mean it?” 

He paused, waiting for Elsa to say something—anything. But the howling wind was the only reply. “Elsa?” She refused to meet his gaze and simply turned away.

_ It’s useless. Why won’t she even  _ **_try_ ** _ to let me help her?!  _

Jack ran a hand through his hair as he turned around. It’d be better to walk away before he said something he’d regret. He didn’t go too far, not wanting to lose Elsa in the gathering snowstorm, but both of them needed some space right now.

***

She had done it again.  _ This  _ was why her parents locked her away; she couldn’t control her emotions—couldn’t control the wild magic within. She needed to shut someone out to keep them safe and they walked away, again. Why was her life cursed in this vicious cycle? It repeated again, and again, and again, leaving nothing but loneliness and heartache in its wake.

Jack’s words echoed in her mind:  _ Elsa, your magic is part of you… _

The magic brought pain; it lashed out. Did that mean that she did the same? Elsa winced—it was true. She tried so hard to be good, but in the end it never mattered. The problem wasn’t the magic; it was her. If only she could learn to control it—to control herself. But what was the point? She’d heard Jack’s footsteps in the snow as he walked away. They always left her.

As if mocking her isolation, the white powder shimmering on the mountain slopes lay untouched, showing no evidence of life. Before her was a kingdom of cold, of darkness, of death. This was her legacy; she was queen of nothing save this frozen wasteland. The wind howled as it tore at her face and clothing; it was wild and uncontrollable—just like her magic. But unlike her powers, unlike herself, it was  _ free _ .

Elsa envied the wind.

She was trapped, trapped in a cage of manners and secrets and royalty. She wanted to meet her parents’ expectations, wanted to become the perfect daughter they desired. But she had never been good enough; her powers had seen to that. She’d attempted to bury her feelings, to suppress her magic. Heaven knows she’d tried everything—but despite her best efforts, she could never keep them inside. They were mutinous: fighting, screaming, needing to be heard!

She’d been taught to hide them, to ignore them, to pretend they didn’t exist. And every time she’d tried, they would resist, raging like a stormy sea beating against the rocks—breaking her. Her voice of reason was drowned out in the thunder of emotion and magic. The very forces she’d tried so hard to restrain would wash over her like a tidal wave, a ferocious ocean that pulled her under and tossed her about until she couldn’t breathe and didn’t know which way was up. And when the storm was over… Everything was still, quiet—clear: nothing could hide the destruction she left in her wake.

And Jack wanted her to unleash its power. 

But what if…

Elsa shook her head, trying to banish the traitorous thought. The questions echoed on: what if it only fought when caged, what if she could learn to tame it, what if…

What if she set it free?

A shiver traveled down Elsa’s spine. The very idea was so foreign, so terrifying, so… right.

She’d been taught for so long to conceal it; she’d never really learned to question the reasoning behind her parents’ mandate. But now… she realized that all the things she’d been told, all of the explanations she’d been given, all of it—everything—was  _ irrelevant _ . Why should she be the perfect queen if she had no kingdom to rule? Why should she mask her feelings when there was no one to see them? Why should she cover up her magic when the world already knows?

Why should she hide when she could be free?

With every question, Elsa’s resolve grew until it broke through the chains of fear. She tore off her glove and threw it into the air. Let the fierce winds carry it where they may—she wouldn’t miss it.

Elsa took a deep breath.

For the first time in more than a decade, she consciously reached for the source of her power. It was a vast ocean—but instead of engulfing Elsa, it embraced her. She allowed it to flow down her arm and through her exposed hand; it released a small fountain of snowflakes. She smiled, and did it again. Using her magic was so natural and familiar, the way it had always been while playing with Anna. At the thought of her sister, Elsa felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly swallowed by the budding joy of using her magic. She flicked her fingers. The snow swirled, forming the snowman she had once made with Anna; it was a fitting tribute. Making Olaf was a happy memory, but it was still part of her past. It was time to move on. She needed to put all of that behind her, to close the door and walk away. And she did so—gladly.

Up in the cold, thin air, Elsa felt like she was breathing for the first time since she was a child. Something in her very soul seemed to release a grateful sigh as she let her magic flow from her fingertips. The swirling patterns of ice she created glittered in the moonlight. Elsa grew bolder, using both hands to summon forth her powers. Every burst of sparkling crystals increased in size, and Elsa’s smile grew along with it.

“You did it, Elsa!” a voice cried out. “You’re using your magic!”

She turned toward the source of the exclamation; Jack hadn’t left her after all! Her face began to warm, manifesting the first inklings of embarrassment that someone had witnessed such a personal moment—but the heady thrill of using her powers and Jack’s proud grin quickly washed her bashfulness away.

“I knew you could do it!” he crowed, fairly dancing with delight. “Elsa, that was amazing!”

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks growing even pinker. Words were completely inadequate to express her gratitude; Elsa reached out, placing a hand on Jack’s arm. Surprised, he quickly glanced down at it before meeting her gaze once more. “Thank you for everything, Jack.”

***

Elsa’s voice was soft as she said, “Thank you for everything, Jack.” 

Normally he would’ve brushed it off with flippant remark, but that seemed disrespectful to her heartfelt expression of gratitude. Instead, he simply said, “You’re welcome; I’m glad I could help.”

“You’ve helped me much more than you know. I think…” Elsa’s lips pursed in contemplation before she continued, “I think I just needed someone to believe in me.”

Those words hit close to home. His voice was slightly raspy as he repeated, “I’m glad I could help.” He cleared his throat to get rid of the lump of emotion. “But you did all the work on your own. You should be proud of yourself, Elsa.”

She withdrew her hand, thoughtfully tipping her head to the side. “I don’t think I actually did that much. It’s kind of funny if you think about it…”

“What is?” he asked, eager to get in on the joke.

“Jack, when you walked away, you gave me a lot to think about. You’ve questioned so many of my beliefs, ones that I’ve held for years,” Elsa said, clasping her hands at her waist. “That helped me to step back, to realize how far away I am from Arendell and the life I knew. Suddenly all of the fears that controlled me and held me back didn’t seem to matter anymore.”

Jack scratched his head. “How is that funny?”

“The funny part is that I spent so many years trying to control my powers. But the moment when I stopped trying, that’s when I learned how.” She smiled and spread her arms in a gesture of defeat.

“Yeah, that is kind of ironic.” He chuckled, then rubbed his hands together. “Are you ready to try stage two?”

“Stage two?”

“Starting to use your magic was stage one in my masterplan,” he explained. “Figuring out what you can do with it is stage two.”

“Then does stage three include mastering my powers?” Elsa asked.

“Nope.”

“What happens in stage three?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he replied with a grin.

Elsa folded her arms. “Why not?”

“’Cause I never finished stage two.” He shrugged. “Even after three-hundred years, I’m still finding new things to do with my magic.”

She slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, did you just say three-hundred years?”

He nodded, elaborating, “Arithmetic's never been my strong suit, so it’d take me a bit to figure out the exact number, but three-hundred years is close enough.”

Jack could fairly see the cogs turning in her head as she bit her lip. A second or two slipped by before she asked, “How old  _ are _ you, Jack?”

“I’d peg myself around three-hundred eighteen or so.”

“So you lived for eighteen years without magic,” she quickly deduced. “How did you receive your powers then?”

_ I died. Then I was chosen. _

He opened his mouth to deliver the first explanation that came to mind, then thought better of it. “Remember earlier, when I told you that I wasn’t always the winter spirit?”

Elsa nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“When I became Jack Frost, I was given a few gifts; my powers were one of them. After all, how ridiculous would it be to be called Jack  _ Frost _ and not have ice magic?” he joked, hoping it would distract her enough to avoid further questions.

Her eyes probed his. “Did you have a choice?” 

_ No. Yes. I mean, sort of. _

He sighed. “It’s complicated. But not really, no.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of the best way to explain. “I just woke up, and everything was…”

Elsa reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder when he failed to finish the thought. He smiled his gratitude and covered her hand with his own. She stiffened, her hand withdrawing a fraction before relaxing once more.

“Sorry, my hands are always a touch cold.” He kind of doubted that Elsa’s unease stemmed from his perpetually frosty fingers, but it was nice to smooth things over and give her an easy out. 

“The cold didn’t bother me, I was just surprised,” she admitted. “Then again, I’m uncertain why I thought a winter spirit would have warm hands, especially considering the weather.” Elsa laughed, and he joined in.

“Speaking of, how are you not frozen yet?” It was one thing for him, a winter spirit, to completely ignore the biting cold, but entirely different for a mortal. Even the other Guardians still needed to be careful in frigid temperatures.

“If you can’t figure out the answer to that question, it appears I’ve given you entirely too much credit,” she teased. “When I told you that I didn’t mind your cold hands, I was telling the truth. I think my powers protect me from the chill.”

He raised his eyebrows in reply. “Is that so?”

“I’ll prove it.” She smiled and unclasped her long cape before literally casting it, along with his multifaceted question, to the wind.

“I didn’t mean that as a dare for you to start chucking your stuff away!” he hollered back, already in hot pursuit.

“No, Jack, stop!” Elsa called out. “Just let it go; I don’t need it anymore.”

He turned his head around, pausing to watch her reaction as he double-checked. “You sure?”

She nodded in affirmation. “I’m sure.”

Officially released from the task, Jack spared one last glance for his quarry before dropping to the ground.

“It was very sweet of you to try and retrieve it though,” Elsa offered.

“No problem,” he said, resting his staff on his shoulder.


	11. Metamorphosis

The conversation had reached a lull, giving Elsa the opportunity to ask a question that had been lurking in her mind. “Were you serious when you talked about experimenting with my powers?”

“After everything I’ve done for you, you still doubt my sincerity?” Jack managed to pull off an impressive facade of wounded pride, but the twinkle in his eye gave it away.

Elsa let out a giggle at his dramatics before replying, “No, of course not.” She’d only questioned the wisdom of such a decision. Still, Jack hadn’t led her wrong yet. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

“Anything you want,” he said with an encouraging smile.

Elsa searched her mind for something new to try. She’d already created snow showers and molded a snowman as well. What else was there? Her mind flashed back to the last time she didn’t know what to do, and inspiration struck.

“Follow me!” she instructed, beginning to run up the mountain.

She knew they were near the peak, and sure enough, cresting the next hill brought her to the edge of a cliff. There was no way forward. But above them and across the drop, a wide outcropping caught her attention. While escaping the palace, her magic had previously given her the power to cross an insurmountable natural barrier. Could it do so again? Elsa summoned forth her powers and sent them forward in a snowy rush; the base of a staircase appeared before her. 

Jack’s eyes flitted between her, the unfinished stairs, and the gap she was attempting to cross. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, a note of apprehension in his voice.

“Yes.” She felt daring, fearless, full of anticipation. It was time to see what she could do, to test the limits of her powers. Still, a sliver of doubt wormed its way through her newfound bravery. “You’ll catch me, won’t you?”

Jack nodded. “I promise. I won’t let you fall.” He quickly flew around to the back of the stairs, already in position for her ascent.

She placed a foot on the snowy step and waited to see what would happen. It crystallized beneath her, turning into smooth ice. Her plan had worked! Elsa looked up—then she ran, flying up the stairs as magic streamed from her fingertips. She laughed, relishing the danger as she embraced the moment. With the wind racing through her hair, the chasm beneath her and the starry sky above, it felt like a dream come to life. Then an exhilarating realization broke through her exuberance, and her grin grew. ”I’m doing this, Jack! I’m really doing it!”

“I know!” he hollered back, laughing.

As they reached the other side, Elsa stepped off the staircase onto solid ground—but her spirit was still soaring high on the pure winds of hope. She waved her hands; snowflakes danced through the night sky and Elsa twirled with them. She was free at last! Gone was all the shame, the secrets, the cruel words and bitter tears. She could finally open up and stop hiding from her true self.

“I haven’t been this happy in years!” she confided with a grateful smile. “And it’s all because of you, Jack—I never could’ve done this without you.”

“I doubt that,” he said, gently nudging her shoulder with his own. “It might’ve taken a while, but you would’ve figured it out. You’re more capable than you think.”

“I ordinarily might beg to differ,” she began, “But this time, I’ll simply say ‘thank you’.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Snowflake,” he said with a wink. “So, what do you want to do now?”

The combination of her new moniker and an open-ended question prompted a recollection to surface: _ “So what are you planning to do when you get there? Live on the top of the mountain like some snow queen?” _ Jack had been jesting at the time, but the concept was sound. Time seemed unimportant here—years could pass as she dwelt in a silent kingdom of ice and snow, isolated from the world. The frigid air blowing against her face was more welcoming than a cozy armchair in front of a roaring fire; she was in her element, and truly happy. Elsa made a decision: she was staying here—permanently. And to do that, she needed a home, a place of refuge from the storms of the world.

She smiled at Jack. “I have an idea.”

Elsa lifted her dress and stomped her foot, sending a sheet of ice across the snow. As her powers flowed outwards, the ice thickened and expanded to form a giant snowflake. 

“Great job, Elsa!”

Her smile broadened into a grin as she held out a hand to silence his praise. “I’m not done yet.”

She raised her arms, tugging at her invisible connection to the ice. Her magic poured downwards as it formed a platform that quickly rose into the air, supported by thick continuously growing pillars. An image began forming in Elsa’s mind: a glittering palace made entirely of ice. Calling upon her knowledge of geometry and architecture (her two favourite subjects), Elsa was quickly transforming her vision into reality. Streams of power surged from her hands and into the ice; walls and arches formed at her command. Elsa reached deeper within, drawing the magic into shimmering ribbons that spiraled upwards. From the peak of the roof, a dazzling chandelier blossomed like a frozen flower.

Elsa’s soul was one with the ice. She could feel it around her: a living creature that grew and flourished—until it stopped. Her design was complete. She beamed with triumph, feeling powerful despite the fatigue seeping into her body.

“Whoa…” Jack’s voice broke the silence. His head was tilted back as he slowly spun to marvel at her creation. “You really did it, Snowflake. You built a palace made of ice.” His attention shifted from the walls around them to her face. “I guess I’ll have to call you Snow Queen now instead of Snowflake, eh?”

Elsa’s smile faltered. She took off her crown and stared at it. It was her only remaining connection to her parents; she had left everything else behind. Homesickness overwhelmed Elsa for a moment. She ached for her family, longed for the beautiful life she’d once known. But she couldn’t go back—and she refused to live in the shadow of a goodbye. Elsa flung the crown away as hard as she could. Without sparking a thought for where it landed, she set about removing all evidence of her former life. Elsa reached up to remove the pins from her hair, letting only the simple French braid remain. She smoothed her unruly bangs into place before pulling the braid over her shoulder. But what could she do about her clothes?

***

Even in Jack’s wildest dreams, he never could have imagined Elsa would be capable of this. The staircase alone was an unprecedented use of magic, but this… Jack shook his head, still staring in awe at her creation. He hadn’t spent much time experimenting with the utility of ice, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Elsa was spectacularly talented—and powerful. The very air had sparkled with magic as she spun and danced like some whimsical winter fairy. The display was captivating, but the joyful smile on Elsa’s face was… entrancing. Jack snorted.

_ Next thing you know I’ll be dressed in a top hat and spouting sonnets. _

Still, he couldn’t deny that seeing Elsa so happy and comfortable with her powers gave him warm fuzzies.

***

Elsa rubbed the material of her coronation gown between her fingers. It was a lovely dress, but she’d rather be rid of anything tied to her past. Still, she wasn’t in possession of another outfit and couldn’t procure clothing out of thin air. Elsa sighed. Even if there were a village nearby, she had no money or goods to trade for apparel. Her powers were the only resource at her disposal. With that realization came an epiphany: she had already created a home, could she make a dress?

Elsa intently focused, ignoring the pressure building in her temples as she tapped into her magic once more. Starting at the hem would be wisest in the event of a mishap. She gradually raised her arms to channel the energy upwards. A lattice of ice-crystals grew on and in the fabric, destroying the original material in the process. It was working! However, an icy duplicate of her current attire would do little to aid her efforts to create a new identity for herself. In an impetuous act of rebellion, Elsa threw propriety out the proverbial window. A slit in the skirt would enable greater freedom of movement, though it also had the decidedly unladylike effect of exposing her ankles and calves.

Having finished altering the skirt, her magic continued to inch upwards toward the bodice of her gown. Elsa came to the realization that the final result would be a rather plain garment if she made no effort to add embellishments. Perhaps she could experiment with different textures? The crystals grew larger, creating interlocking panels the size of her thumb. It looked incredible, but using such a technique for the sleeves of the garment would restrict movement and be highly impractical. Was it possible to create something more lightweight and breathable for her arms? Such an attempt would be highly experimental in nature, but then again, so was everything else she’d done recently.

Deciding she’d never know if she never tried, Elsa reverted back to her earlier technique of ice-fabric making. This time, however, she expanded the gaps within the structure until it was nothing more than tentatively linked snowflakes. The result was a sheer material that resembled twinkling stars. Elsa raised her arms, one after the other, to examine the process in action. Despite her lack of practice, she felt surprisingly comfortable with this new application of her power. It was time to add some visual flourishes. She thickened areas of the translucent textile, creating borders and stylized designs that glistened like dew-covered diamonds.

Elsa studied her work. The gown was dazzling, but her black dancing slippers seemed woefully out of place. Furthermore, they were already deteriorating due to her extended trek through rough terrain. It seemed an adjustment to her footwear was also in order. She repeated the same process she used on her dress, transforming them into a pair of delicate icy heels. Her new ensemble was complete—and yet…

Jack was examining her from head to toe without saying a word.

***

_ Jack.exe has stopped working. _

He stared at Elsa, completely dumbfounded by this newest development. She had transformed her clothes before his very eyes. If that wasn’t enough to render him speechless, the way she looked in her new dress would. She could’ve walked onto a red carpet and no one would’ve batted an eye. Elsa looked much more approachable with her hair down and a smile on her face, compared to when they’d first met. Despite this, Jack suddenly found himself unquestionably,  _ seriously _ intimidated.

“So?” Elsa prompted, biting her lip. “What do you think?”

“You–I–uh, you look amazing,” he managed to sputter out.

_ Nice going there, Jack. Real smooth. _

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”

“Yup.” Proud of executing a coherent response, Jack faked a coughing fit before his mouth could betray him.

“Hmm…” Elsa walked to the nearest wall. Using the reflective surface as a mirror, she twisted and turned to see her outfit from every possible angle. “I don’t know. I think there’s something missing…”

_ Dress, check. Shoes, check. Umm… What more do girls need? _

Elsa didn’t seem the type to carry a handbag, and it wasn’t like she had stuff to put in one anyway. Jack wracked his brain for ideas. “Uh, earlier you were wearing a cape?”

“Not quite,” she said, turning to point at him, “But maybe…” Elsa thoughtfully tapped her finger on her chin.

***

Elsa pursed her lips as she considered Jack’s suggestion. No, a long cape wouldn’t do. It would be concealing and restrictive, two things her life definitely wasn’t anymore. But she couldn’t deny that yards of fabric trailing behind her provided a certain elegance and drama she loved. As she pondered the conundrum, Elsa experienced a flash of inspiration.

She closed her eyes. Though it had been effortless to find her magic when she’d first started using it, it seemed that her powers had retreated to a far corner of her mind. A nagging headache formed, slowing the process, but Elsa finally coaxed the energy from within. Within seconds, a glorious gossamer train grew from the back of her dress. 

Elsa opened her eyes to find Jack closely inspecting the process. As this enterprise was his idea, she decided to subtly deepen the blue to match his sweatshirt. The shift in hue also nicely offset her cerulean gown without drawing attention to itself.

“Do you want to watch the sunrise?” she asked, gesturing toward the open balcony. The gradually brightening skies indicated that the sun would soon breach the horizon.

“Sure.” Jack flew over to sit on the railing. She almost told him to be careful, but stopped as soon as she realized it was pointless. Even if he fell, there was no real danger.

“What’s it like?” she asked, suddenly curious.

He looked over his shoulder. “What’s what like, Snowflake?”

“Flying.” Elsa joined him at the edge, though choosing to keep both feet planted safely on the floor. Jack had promised to catch her earlier, but she wasn’t eager to put it to the test.

“In one word? Incredible.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Old memories surfaced, but for once they brought no pain. “When we were children, Anna always loved to play games where she could pretend to fly.”

“Well, it definitely can be exciting and fun. But sometimes it can be peaceful, just you and your thoughts drifting through the skies. Except when there are flocks of geese nearby. Then things get interesting…” Elsa laughed, recalling the time she’d seen a stray goose harass a group of children from her window. “It’s also pretty useful too. I’ve never had problems reaching the top shelf since.”

“Well, I’ll make sure you’re first to know when I need something up high then,” she [teased].

Jack pointed a finger at her. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Is that so?” Elsa asked, arching a brow.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “If I hear whispers that you’re shopping around for other helpers, well...” He formed a shoddy snowman in the palm of his hand before flicking it off the edge. “It won’t end well for the other guy,” he finished with a devilish smirk.

“You wouldn’t,” she stated, though amused by the idea of Jack defending his position to the death. 

“Nah, I’m not that mean,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s fun to pretend I could be. Everybody loves a good villain.” 

Elsa eyed him dubiously. “A ‘good’ villain? How is that even possible?”

“Well, they could be good at being bad,” Jack playfully countered.

She rolled her eyes, unable to think of a suitable reply to that painful but witty remark. It would be best to move on. “Will you please clarify what you meant about a ‘good villain’?”

“Well,” Jack spoke slowly as he explained, “Some ways of doing evil things are more successful and efficient than others...”

“Jack.” She sent him a look of reproach.

“What?” he asked, a carefully innocent expression on his face.

“You know exactly what,” she accused, nudging him with her elbow.

Jack sputtered a few incoherent words before protesting, “Milady, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I seriously doubt that.” It was hard to sound serious while fighting a smile at this ridiculous charade, but Elsa did her best.

He chuckled, finally admitting, “Yeah, I do know.” Jack switched from sitting to perching on the railing and rubbed his hands together. “So, a good villain, huh? Well, one of the defining traits of a good villain is that people love ‘em, especially screaming fangirls.”

“Fangirls?” Elsa questioned, unfamiliar with the term. 

Jack waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. So, the question here, and the reason they’re a good villain instead of a Joe Shmoe, is why?”

“Why people love them, you mean?” She couldn’t fathom loving something enough to scream about it; that kind of behavior was absurd. Then a vision of Anna passed through her mind, and she suddenly understood.

“Yup. So there’s pretty much one thing that sets them apart,” he said, lifting a finger to emphasize his point. “Do you have a guess what it is?”

Elsa thought about the countless books she read while in her room, but couldn’t come up with a theory. She shook her head.

“Relatability. If the audience can relate to the villain and see that they’re human, suddenly they become much more than just the main bad guy. A complex character and good backstory can make people understand their actions, and sympathize with them as a person instead of mindlessly hating them.”

Elsa shifted uncomfortably. It was quite apparent that she did not fit into the  _ ‘good’ _ villain category. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if Anna and everyone else in Arendelle hated her for what she’d done.

“We should head inside,” she abruptly suggested. The sun had risen, bathing the land in a cheerful golden light. In her current dismal mood, a reminder of the outside world was the last thing Elsa wanted to see. She was fine here, up on a lonely mountain in her empty ice palace. She had everything she needed: food, shelter, companionship. The world had nothing left to offer. Elsa started walking inside, refusing to look back, not even to check if Jack followed.

“Are you tired?” Jack asked, flying to catch up before walking beside her. “You stayed up the entire night, Snowflake. Maybe you should get some rest.”

“I’m fine.” Her tone brooked no argument.

Jack held up his hands. “Great, message received. Elsa is a-okay.” He drew out the last word, casually imbuing it with a question.

She turned to fully face him. “Jack, I said I’m  _ fine. _ ”

“Yeah, I heard that,” he agreed—but somehow made it clear he was not convinced.

“ _ Jack _ —”

He raised an eyebrow.

Elsa sighed. Arguing further would only prove his point, and she didn’t feel confident she could control her powers if she became truly upset. Besides that, she couldn’t afford to lose the only person she had left. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Jack nodded, accepting her apology. “And…?”

“You’re right,” she conceded. “I’m not feeling the best.”

His brow furrowed in concern. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Elsa wearily shook her head. “It’s just a headache, nothing to worry about. The draft probably doesn’t help either,” she said, waving a hand to magically close the balcony doors.


End file.
